LIBRARY 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

SANTA  BARBARA 


PRESENTED  BY 

Mr.    H.    H.    KM  iani 


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THE  WORKS 


OF 


BAYARD    TAYLOR 


VOLUME  VII 


INDIA,  CHINA,  AND  JAPAN 


STUDIES  IN  GERMAN  LITERATURE 


G.  P.  PUTNAM'S   SONS 

NEW   YORK  LONDON 

27   WEST  TWENTY-THIKD    STREET  24    BEDFORD    STREET,    STRAND 

®;^c  ^nitlurbockcr  ^rcss 


A  VISIT  TO 
INDIA,  CHINA,  AND  JAPAN 

IN  THE  YEAR  1853 

BY 
BAYARD  TAYLOR 


author's  revised  edition 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1855,  by 

G.    P.    PUTNAM   &    CC, 

in  the  Clerk's  Oflace  of  ihe  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the  Southern 
District  of  New  York, 


Copyright  ey 

MARIE    TAYLOR 

1882 


DeDicateO 

TO 

CHARLES    A.    DANA 

BY   HIS 

ASSOCIATE  AND  FRIEND. 


PREFACE. 


With  this  volnmft  ends  the  record  of  two  and  a  half 
years  of  travel,  wliich  was  commenced  in  the  "  Jonraey 
to  Central  Africa/'  and  continued  in  tbf^  "Lands  of  the 
Saracen."  In  bringing  his  work  to  a  close,  the  author 
cannot  avoid  expressing  his  acknowledgment  of  the  pub- 
lic interest  in  those  portions  of  his  narrative  already 
published — an  interest  which  has  justified  him  in  the 
preparation  of  this  volume,  and  encouraged  him  to  hope 
that  he  will  again  be  received  at  the  same  firesides  as  a 
gossip  and  companion,  not  as  a  bore. 

Although  the  entire  travels  herewith  presented  em- 
brace India,  China,  Japan,  the  Loo-Choo  and  Benin 
Islands,  and  the  long  homeward  voyage  around  the  Cape 
of  Good  Hope.  th<^y  were  all  accomplished  in  the  space 


H  PREFAOB. 

of  a  year.  Hence,  some  of  my  descriptions  may  bear 
the  marks  of  haste,  and  I  may,  occasionally,  have  found- 
ed a  judgment  on  the  first  rapid  impressions,  which  a 
greater  familiarity  with  the  subject  might  not  have  con- 
firmed. I  can  only  say,  in  answer  to  objections  of  this 
Ivind,  that  I  have  conscientiously  endeavored  to  be  cor- 
rect and  impartial,  and  that,  in  preparing  this  work  foi 
the  press,  I  have  carefully  tested  the  original  impressions 
recorded  on  the  spot,  by  the  truer  images  which  slowly 
ripen  in  the  memory,  and  by  the  light  of  subsequent 
experience. 

The  portions  of  the  book  devoted  to  India  and  China 
are  as  complete  as  the  length  of  my  stay  in  those  coun- 
tries allowed  me  to  make  them.  The  account  of  my 
visit  to  Loo-Choo  and  Japan,  however,  is  less  full  and 
detailed  than  I  could  have  wished.  In  accordance  with 
special  regulations  issued  by  the  Secretary  of  the  Navy 
I  was  obUged  to  give  up  my  journals  to  the  Department, 
at  the  close  of  my  connection  with  the  Expedition,  It 
was  understood  that  they  would  be  retained  and  em- 
ployed in  the  compilation  of  the  Narrative  of  the  Expe- 
dition, now  being  prepared  by  order  of  Congress.  Ab 
my  accounts  of  the  most  interesting  events  which  I  wit- 


PREFACE.        •  Vll 

oeesed  had  already  been  published,  and  were  therefore 
common  property,  I  made  application  to  Government 
for  the  favor  of  being  allowed  to  copy  portions  of  my 
journal — especially  that  part  relating  to  Loo-Choo^ 
which  would  have  enabled  me  to  supply  the  links  be- 
tween tne  published  accounts  :  but  my  request  was  per- 
emptorily denied.  My  papers  will  no  doubt  be  restored 
to  me,  after  the  completion  of  the  Government  work : 
otherwise,  like  John  Ledyard,  in  a  precisely  similar  case, 
I  shall  have  the  alternative  of  an  unusually  tenacioufi 
memory. 

During  my  journeys  and  voyages  in  those  remote 
parts  of  the  world,  I  was  treated  with  great  kindness 
and  hospitality  by  the  English  and  American  merchants 
and  officials  established  there,  and  received  assistance  in 
the  prosecution  of  my  plans,  which  T  take  sincere  plea- 
sure in  acknowledging.  I  desire,  especially,  to  return 
my  thanks  to  Commodore  Perry,  to  whose  kindness  I 
was  indebted  for  the  most  interesting  portion  of  my 
experiences  ;  to  the  Hon.  Humphrey  Marshall,  late  U.  S, 
Commissioner  to  China  ;  to  Capt.  Buchanan,  U.  S.  N. ; 
to  Edward  Cunningham,  Esq.,  U.  S.  Vice-Consul  at 
Bhanghai ;  to  Henry  G.  Keene,  Esq.,  of  the  E.  I.  Com^ 


nil  PREFACE. 

pany's  Civil  Service,  and  Capt.  R.  Baird  Smith,  of  the 
Bengal  Engineers  ;  and  to  the  American  Missionaries  in 
India  and  China,  from  all  of  whom  I  received  every 
assistance  in  their  power. 

B.  T. 

New  Yobk,  Au^ttst^  1856. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  L 

Leavin?  Gibraltar— Voyage  up  the  Mediterranean— Landing  at  Alexandria— Dlatrlbu 
tion^of  Passengers— A  Cloudy  Day  In  Egypt-A  Joyful  Meeting— The  Desert  Vanft- 
We  Start  for  Suez— Cockney  Fears— The  Road  and  Station-houses— Suez— Transfer  tc 
the  India  Steamers— Our  Passengers  and  Crew— The  Mountains  of  Horeb— Ked  Sea 
Weather  and  Scenery— A  Glimpse  of  Mocha— The  Straits  of  Bab-el-Mandeb— An  Ex- 
tinct Hades— The  Fortress  of  Aden— Arrival— The  Somali— Ride  to  the  Old  Town  - 
Population  of  Aden— Temperature— The  FortlflcationB— The  Track  of  the  Anglo- 
Saxon— Departure-Disregard  of  Life— Araby  the  Blest— Life  on  the  Achilles— Ap- 
proach to  India— Land !— The  Ghauts  of  Malabar— Arrival  at  Bombay,  .    18 

CHAPTER  IL 

&  Foretaste  ot  India— Entering  Bombay  Harbor— I  Reach  the  Shore- My  First  Ride 
in  a  Palanquin— Mr.  Pallanjee's  Hotel- Appearance  of  Bombay— Its  Situation— The 
First  Indian  Railroad- English  Hospitality— American  Consuls  and  Residents— The 
Parsees— Sir  Jamsetjee  Jeejeebhoy— His  Family  and  Residence— Parsee  Faith  and 
Ceremonies— Bridal  Processions— A  Drive  to  Malabar  Hill— Tropical  Gardens— Tax 
on  Palm-Trees— A  Hindoo  Temple-The  Jeejeebhoy  Hospital— Dr.  Bhawoo  Da,- 
Jee ^ 

CHAPTER  IIL 

EiLdoo  and  EgypMan  Antiquities- The  Hindoo  Faith— The  Trinity— A  Trip  to  Ele- 
phanta— Scenery  of  the  Bay— Landing  on  the  Island— Front  View  of  the  Cave- 
Temple— Portuguese  Vandalism— The  Colossal  Trinity— The  Head  of  Brahma- 
Vishnu— Shiva— Remarkable  Individuality  of  the  Heads— The  Gnanlians  of  the 
Shrine— The  Columns  of  Elephanta— Their  Type  in  Nature— Intrinsic  Dignity  of  all 
Eeligloiis— Respect  for  the  Ancient  Faiths— The  Smaller  Chambers  of  the  Templf^-- 
The  Shrine  of  the  Sterile— Tamarind  Trees— Smaller  Cave-Temples— Eetam  to 
Bombay  Island— Sunset  in  the  Botanic  Garden, ** 


C0HTEKT8. 


OHAPTEB  IV 


N^ev-Tear  s  Day— A  'fiopical  Gift — AP&rsee  Bangalow — Oar  Beceptlon-^^e'vrlng  tl« 

Betel-Nut— The  Naatch-Glrl»— Their  Dances— Sapper— Prejudices  of  Caste— Th« 
Bengalee  Dance— A  Gilded  Bridegroom— Piercing  Music— Ship-Building  lu  Bom- 
bay-Education of  the  Natives— Their  Appeals  to  Parliament,     .       .       .       .    M 

CHAPTER  V. 

Preparations  for  Departure— Warnings-Filial  Gratitude— The  Banghy  Cart— A  Night- 
Gallop  through  Bombay— The  Island  Eoad— Ferry  to  the  Mainland— Despotism  ol 
the  Banghy-Cart— Morning  Scenery— The  Bungalow— Breakfast— The  Sun  as  a  Phy- 
gician— An  Arm.v  of  Bullocks— Climbing  the  Ghauts— Natural  Pagodas — The  Sum- 
mit—A Kind  Sergeant— The  Second  Day— Eesemblance  to  Mexico— Natives  and 
Villages— The  Menagerie  Man  in  Egj-pt- An  English  Cantonment— Dhoolia— The 
Lieutenant  and  his  Hospitality— A  Kough  Eoad— Accident— Waiting  in  the  Jungle— 
The  Bullock-Cart— Halt  at  Seerpore, 08 

CHAPTER  VL 

Departure  from  Seerpore— Another  Break-down— A  Crippled  Cart— Palasnehr — Indian 
Horses  and  Drivers — -Jungle — The  Banyan  Tree— The  Tamarind — The  Natives  of 
the  Jungle— Military  Salutations — The  Town  of  Sindwah— Tokens  of  Decay— The 
Slndwah  Jungles — A  Dilem?ua — The  Vindhya  Mountains — The  Station  of  Mhow— 
Arrival  at  Indore— The  Town-  -The  Kajah's  Palace— The  E^ah  and  lils  Hlstory- 
His  Tastes — Hindoo  Temples  and  their  Worshippers— The  tlnglish  liesidency- 
Cold  Weather T8 

CHAPTER  VII. 

fhe  Mail-Cart— Setting  out  from  Indore— Night  Travel -Stupidity  of  the  Natives— 
Mussulmen- Nearly  an  Accident — Scenery  of  the  Eoad— A  Polite  Englishman- 
Miseries  of  the  Journey— A  Tiger  Party— Budjrungurh— Goonah— A  Free  Use  of 
Hospitality— The  Thugs  and  Eobbers— Second  Halt— Miss  Burroughs — Going  On— 
The  Plain  of  Hindostan — Approach  to  Agra— A  Landmark,         .       .       .       .    M 

CHAPTER  VIIL 

A-kbarabad— The  Modern  City— The  English  Cantonments— Rev.  Mr.  Warren— The 
Fort  of  Agra— The  Jumraa  Mnsjeed — Entering  the  Fort — Judgment-Seat  of  the 
Emperor— The  Gates  of  Somnauth— Akbar's  Palace— Splendor  of  Its  Decorations— 
The  Palace  of  Glass— A  Cracked  Thrnne-The  Pearl  Mosque— Tomb  of  Akbar,  at 
Secundra- An  Indian  Landscape — Saracenic  Art— Mission  Prlntlng-OfQce — The 
American  Missions— The  Agra  Jail— Dr.  Walker's  System  ol  Education— Arlthme- 
ticln  Chorus— EfiFect  of  the  System, 101 

CHAPTER  IX. 

Excursion  to  Futtehpore-Slkree— The  Road  Thither— Approach  to  the  Ruins— Theb 
Extent  and  Grandeur— The  Palace  of  Kajah  Beer-Bul- Perfect  Condition  of  tb< 
Remains- Shekh  Busharat-Ali— Age  of  Futtehpore — The  Emperor's  Palace- 
Rooms  of  the  Sultana  Mariam— Akbar's  Tolerance— The  Five  Palaces— The  PlKai 
of  Council— Profusion  of  Ornament— The  Emperor's  SalutaticHi— The  Elephant  G«tii 


CONTENTS.  xi 

•nd  Tower— The  Durgat— Shekh  Selim-Chlshtl— He  glyes  a  Son  to  the  Emperor- 
The  Splendor  of  his  Tomb — View  from  the  Gateway— An  Experiment— Tiflto  ia 
the  Palace— The  Story  of  the  E^jah  Beer-Bol  and  the  Ruby— Last  View  of  Futteh- 
por«-flikree, lu 

CHAPTEE  X. 

Ustaut  Views  of  the  Taj— Tomb  of  Itmun  e'  Dowlah— The  Garden  of  Bama— Nl^t 

Worship— The  Taj  Mahal— Its  Origin— The  Light  of  the  Harem— Portal  and  Avenue 
to  the  Taj— Its  Form— Its  Inlaid  Marbles  and  Jewel  Work— Tomb  of  Noor-Jehan-  - 
The  Dome — Resemblance  to  Florentine  Art— Proofs  of  Saracenic  Design— The 
Bcho  under  the  Dome -Beauty  of  the  Taj — Saraceiiic  Architecture— Plan  of  Shah 
Jehan— Garree  Dawk— Leaving  Agra— Night— Allyghur— The  Grand  Trunk  Road 
—Distant  View  of  Delhi— Arrival, 180 

CHAPTER  XL 

Delhi— The  Mogul  Empire  at  Present— Ruins  of  former  Delhla— The  Observatory— A 

Wildernessof  Ruin— Tomb  of  Sufdur  Jung— TheKhuttubMlnar— Its  Beauty— View 
from  the  Summit— Uncertainty  of  its  Origin— The  Palace  of  Aladdin— Ruins  of  i 
Hindoo  Temple — Tomb  of  the  Emperor  Humayoon — Of  Nizam-ud-deen — Native 
Sam  Patches— Old  Delhi— Aspect  of  the  Modern  City— The  Chandnee  Choke— Ba- 
yaderes—Delhi  Artisans  and  Artists — The  Jumna  Musjeed — A  Hindoo  Minstrel  and 
his  Songs — The  Palace  of  Akbar  II. — Neglect  and  Desolation — The  Dlwan — An 
Elysium  on  Earth— The  Throne  Hall— The  Crystal  Throne— The  Court  of  Akbar  XL 
—A  Farce  of  Empire — The  Gardens — Voices  of  the  Salt»na8— Palace  Pastimes,    148 

CHAPTEE  XIL 

Departure  for  the  Himalayas—"  Laying  a  Dawk  " — Last  View  of  Delhi— A  Rainy 
Night — Quarters  at  Meerut — The  Dawk  Agent — Hindoo  Punctuality — Meerut — 
Palanquin  Travelling — Tricks  of  the  Bearers — Arrival  at  Roorkhee — Adventures  In 
Search  of  a  Bieakfaet— First  View  of  the  Himalayas — A  Welcome  Invitation— Roor 
khee — The  Ganges  Canal— Its  Cost  and  Dimensions— Method  of  Irrigation — The 
Government  and  the  People — Aqueduct  over  the  Selanee  Elver— Apathy  of  the 
Natives,  ,        .    160 

CHAPTEE  XIIL 

Native  Workmen  at  Roorkhee — Their  Wages— Departure  for  Hurdwar- AlternooB 

View  of  the  Himalayas — Peaks  visible  from  Roorkhee — Jungle-grass — Jowalapore 
—Approach  to  the  Siwalik  Hills — First  View  of  the  Ganges — Ganges  Canal— Pre- 
diction of  the  Brahmins — An  Arrival — ^The  Holy  City  of  Hurdwar — Its  Annual 
Fair— Appearance  of  the  Streets — The  Bazaar— A  Himalayan  Landscape — Travel  la 
the  Jangle — A  Conflagration— The  Jungle  by  Torch-Light— Arrival  at  Dehra,     1  Ti 

CHAPTER  XrV. 

Reception  by  Mr.  Keene — We  start  for  the  Himalayas — The  Dehra -Dhoon — Moming 
View  of  the  Sub-Himalayas— Leopards— Rajpore — Wilson,  the  "Ranger  of  th« 
Himalayas"- Climbing  the  Mountain— Change  of  Seasons — The  Summit  of  th« 
Ridge— Village  of  Landowr— Snow-Drifts— The  Pole  and  the  EqxMitor-E«y,  Ml 


Xll  CONTENTS. 


Woodside— Mast-Hdad  of  the  Sab-Hlmalayas — View  of  the  ftnowj  Peaks— €nn4 
Asiatic  Tradition— Peculiar  Structure  of  the  Himalayan  Banges — Seenery  of  tb« 
Main  Chain— The  Paharreea— Polyandry— The  Peaks  at  Sunset— The  Plain  of 
Hlndostan- A  Cloudy  Deluge, 182 

CHAPTER  XV. 

Return  to  Denia— The  Dhoon— System  of  Taxation— The  Tea-Culture  in  India-^  Tea 
Garden  at  Kaologir— Progress  by  Fwce— Elde  to  the  Bobber's  Cave— A  Sikh  Tem- 
ple— A  Sunny  Picture — Sikh  Minstrelsy— Eajth  Loll  Singh— English  Master?  and 
Native  Servants — Preparations  for  Departure, IM 

CHAPTER  XVL 

Bide  to  Shahpore— The  Rajah's  Elephant— The  Pass  of  the  Siwallk  Hills— I  Resume 
the  Palanquin— The  Large  Punch-House — Saharunpore — The  American  Mission— 
The  Botanic  Garden— A  Dreary  Journey — Travellers — Salutations — Return  to 
Meerut— A  Theft— Journey  over  the  Plains— Scenery  of  the  Road- The  Pollution 
of  Touch— Fractious  Horses— Arrival  at  Cawnpore— Capt.  Blddell— The  English 
Cantonments, 208 

CHAPTER  XVIL 

Crossing  the  Ganges— Night-Journey  to  Lucknow — Arrival — A  Mysterious  Visitor — A 
Morning  Stroll— The  Goomtee  River— An  Oriental  Picture — The  Crowds  of  Llick« 
now — Col.  Sleeman,  ibe  Resident — Drive  through  the  City — The  Constantinople 
Gate — Arcbitectviral  Effects— The  Imambarra — Gardens  and  Statues — Singular  Dec- 
orations of  the  Tomb — The  Chandeliers — Speculation  in  Oude — Hospital  and  Mosque 
—The  Kings  Xtw  Palace — The  Martiniere — Royalty  Plundered— The  Dog  and  the 
Rose- Water — Destruction  of  the  King's  Sons — The  Explosion  of  a  Fiend — Misrule 
In  Oude— Wealth  of  Lucknow— A  Ride  on  a  Royal  Elephant— The  Queen-Dowa- 
ger's Mosque— Navigating  the  Streets— A  Squeeze  of  Elephants— The  Place  of  Exe- 
eution — TLe  Choke — Splendor  and  Corruptlnn, 214 

CHAPTER  aVHL 

Ketam  to  Cawnpore — An  Accident— The  Road  to  Allahabad — Sensible  Pilgrims- 
Morning— Beauty  of  AUaliabad— The  American  Missionaries — The  Hindoo  Festival 
—The  Banks  of  the  Ganges — Hindoo  Devotees— Expounding  the  Vedas — The  Place 
of  Hair- A  Pilgrim  Shorn  and  Fleeced — The  Place  of  Flags — Venality  of  the  Brah- 
mins—Story  (if  the  Contract  for  Grass — Junction  of  the  Ganges  and  Jumna— Bathing 
of  che  Pilgrims— A  Sermon— The  Mission— Subterranean  Temple— The  Fort  o4 
Allahabad, 22« 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

Crossing  tiie  Ganges — Pilgrims  Returning  Home — Vagaries  of  tne  Horses — Benares- 
Prof  Hall— The  Holy  City— Its  Sanctity— The  Sanscrit  College— Not  el  Plan  z\ 
Education- Village  of  Native  Christians— The  Streets  of  Benares— Sacred  Bulls— 
Their  Sagacity  and  Cunning— The  Golden  Pagoda— Hindoo  Architecture— Worship 
of  the  Llngam-  Temple  of  the  Indiac  Ceree— The  Banks  of  the  Gangeiy— Bathing 
Devotees— Preparations  for  Departure, 28f 


CONTENTS.  nii 


CHAPTER  XX. 

Hoonllght  on  the  (Janges— The  Unholy  River— Scenery  of  the  Plata*— Egyptian 
Landscapes — Sasseram — Mountains  near  the  Soane  River — View  of  the  Ford— 
Creasing — The  Second  Day's  Journey — Tbe  Hills  of  Behar — Meeting  with  an  Ac- 
quaintance—Wild Table-Land— Sunset— A  Coolie  Trick— The  Aborigines  of  Lidia— 
Triumph  of  the  Red-haired  Lady— Horse  Gymnastics— The  Lady  Defttated — Man- 
glepore — An  Eccentric  Night-Journey — The  City  of  Burdwau — Tropical  Scenery- 
Wrecked  on  the  Road — A  Wrathful  Delay — Wrecked  again — Journey  by  Moonlight 
—Another  Wreck— An  Insane  Horse— The  Hoogly  River— Yet  Another  Accident— 
k  Momtag  Parade— The  End  of  "  Garree-Dawk," 260 

CHAPTER  XXL 

Cmpresslons  of  Calcutta — The  Houses  of  tbe  Residents— Public  Bulldtags  and  Instito- 
tlons — Colleges — Young  Bengal— Museum  of  the  Asiatic  Society— The  Botanic 
Garden— Calcutta  at  Sunset — Scene  on  tbe  Esplanade — English  Rule  in  India— Ite 
Results — Its  Disadvantages— Relation  of  the  Government  to  the  Population— Ten- 
ure of  Land  -  Taxes— The  Sepoys — Revenue  of  India— Public  Works— Moral  Chan- 
ges— Social  Prejudices, .       .       .       .    2QS 

CHAPTER  XXIL 

Departure  fi-om  Calcutta— Descending  the  Hoogly  River — An  Accident— Kedgeree— 
The  Songs  of  the  Lascars — Saugor  Island— The  Sandheads— The  Bay  of  Bengal- 
Fellow- Passengers— The  Peak  of  Narcondan— The  Andaman  Islands — Approach  to 
Penang— A  Malay  Garree — Beauty  of  the  Island — Tropical  Forests — A  Vale  of  Par- 
adise— The  Summit — A  Panorama — Nntmeg  Orchards — The  Extremity  of  Asia — 
The  Malayan  Archipelago— Singapore — Chinese  Population— Scenery  of  the  Island 
—The  China  Sear-Arrival  at  Hong-Kong, 87S 

CHAPTER  XXIIL 

Trip  to  Macao — Attached  to  the  U.  S.  Embassy — On  Board  the  Steam-Frigate  Susqne- 
hanna— Departure  trom  Macao — The  Coast  of  China-  Tbe  Shipwrecked  Japanese— 
Their  Address  to  the  Commissioner — The  Eastern  Sea  —The  Archipelago  of  Chnsan 
—The  Mouth  of  the  Yang-tse-Kiang— The  Steamer  Aground— Rumors  of  the  Reb- 
els— Arrival  at  Wooeung— Entering  the  Woosung  River — Chtaese  Junks— Appear- 
■nee  of  tbe  Country — Approach  to  Shanghai— Arrival,       .,       ...    287 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

rhe  Commissioner  decides  to  visit  Nanking— Preparations  for  the  Voyage— Departure 
of  four  Japanese — The  Susquehanna  leaves — Woosung — Bush  Island  and  Tsung- 
Mtag— We  strike  the  Blonde  Shoal— The  Chinese  Pilots— Escape  of  a  Boat— Off  th« 
Bhoftl— Mr.  Bennett's  night  cruise  after  the  Boats— Unfavorable  Reports— The  Re- 
turn-End of  the  Expedition — Successful  Trip  of  the  Susquehanna  in  tbe  Bummer 
ori864, W 

CHA?TEE  XXV. 

Life  to  Bhangh«i— The  Rebels  Expected— My  Journal- The  Fall  of  Nanking- Th« 
Grain  Trade— Soo-Chow  Threatened— Barbarities  at  Nanking— Rumors  Concern 


CONTENTS. 


hie  the  Rebels— Capture  of  l,orch as— Threats  towards  Foreigneis — Alarm  of  th 
Taoa-tal — A  Kebel  l^roclamation — Imperial  Rewards  and  Pardons — Col.  ila  stall'l 
Proclamation — Xankliig  Besieged  by  the  Imperial  Army — Flight  fr  )iii  Sliangbai— 
Sir  George  Bonham — Meetings  of  the  Foreign  Residents— Ransom  for  Shanghai— 
Soo-Chow  not  Taken — Uncertainty — Mr.  Meadows  at  Soo-Chow — Deleusive  Worlu 
Commenced — Trouble  with  the  Men  of  Foo-Kien — Marauders  in  th<^  Country- 
Burning  of  Thieves — The  Foo-Kieu  Grave-yard — Desertion  of  the  City — A  En« 
moied  Battle— Death  of  Tien-teh— Mr.  Meadows — Various  Rumors— Return  of  the 
Science — Destruction  of  Chin-klang-foo— The  Kxcitement  Subsides,         .        .    801 

CHAPTER  XXVL 

Chineee  and  Foreigners  at  Shanghai — Situation  of  the  City — A  Chinese  Promenade— 
Burjing-Grounds— Money  for  the  Dead— A  Baby  Tower— The  Ningpo  House- 
Coffins— Chinese  Gypsies— A  Street  of  the  Suburbs— The  City  Gate— A  ChlneM 
Pawnbroker  s  Shop — A  Temple — The  Statue  of  Boodh — A  Priest  at  his  Devotions 
— Stenches  of  the  Streets — Beggars — Shops — View  of  the  Tea-Garden— Chinese 
Gamblers— An  Artistic  Mountebank— The  Baptist  Chapel— Scene  from  its  Tower— 
The  Hills — Fanciful  Signs — Missionary  Labors  in  China — Apathy  of  the  People— A 
Chinese  Residence— The  Library— The  City  Prison— Torture  of  the  Prisoners— A 
Bath  House— Character  of  the  Mongol  Form— The  Tutelar  Deity  of  Shanghai— 
Boodh  at  Sunset— Kite  Flying, 881 

CHAPTER  XXVIL  * 

An  Earthquake— Sensations  it  Producea— Its  EflFects— Additional  ShockB— The  Bowl- 
ing Alley— Hairs  In  the  Soil— A  Shower  of  Sand— Visit  of  the  Taou-tai  to  Col. 
Marshall— Chinese  Visiting  Cards— The  Taou-tai's  Appearance — Reception  of  the 
Dignitaries— A  Chinese  Military  Review— The  Soldiers  and  their  Equipments— 
Their  Discipline— Uncouth  Weapons— Absurdity  of  the  Parade— The  Commissioner 
visits  the  Taou-tal— Reception— The  Taou-tal's  Residence— Chinese  Refreshments- 
Departure 889 

CHAPTER  XXVUL 

Spring  at  Shanghai— Appearance  of  the  Country— Crops— National  Conveyance  of 
China— Houses  of  the  Lower  Classes— Sail  on  the  River— The  Pagoda— Village 
Market — Sweetmeats  and  Children — Showers  of  Cash — Chinese  Horticultural  Exhi- 
bition— The  Lan-whei — Chinese  Love  of  Monstrosity— Moral  Depravity  of  the  Race 
—Landscape  Gardening— A  Soldier  and  his  Drill -The  Cangue— Visit  of  the  Hermet 
to  Nanking-  The  Rebels— Their  Christianity— Condition  of  the  City— Arrival  of  the 
U.  S.  Steam  Frigate  JTismsippi— Commodore  Perry— CoL  Marshall's  Chlnee« 
Dinner— Mr.  Robert  Fortune, 84* 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 

State  of  Things  at  Shanghai— The  81oop-of-War  Plymouth— Preparations  for  Depart- 
ure—Entering the  Naval  Service — Its  Regulations — Procuring  a  Uniform— The 
Master's- Mates— Establishing  a  Mess — Departure  for  Japan— A  Gale — Shipwrecks- 
Standing  out  to  Sea— Arrival  ai  the  Great  Loo-Choo  Island— A  Missionary— Beautj 
of  the  Harbor  of  Napa— The  Native  Authorities— Going  Ashore — Jumping  over  t 
Oond  Beef- -Landlag— The  Town  of  Napa-Klang— 8ple»— Dr.  Betteihelm'i  Real, 
dence,       .       .  .       .  .       .       .       .    3« 


COITTKNTS.  XV 


CHAPTEE  XXX. 

Visit  of  the  Eegect— The  Island  of  Loo-Choo — An  Exi)loration  of  the  Inter  or— S<!tliiii 
Out— Entry  into  the  Capital — Reception— The  Old  Mandarin  in  fcr  a  Journey— Ilii 
Eesignatlon— Programme  of  the  Exploring  Trip — Espionage  in  Loo-Choo —Et 
deavors  t>  Escape  it — Taking  Families  by  Surprise — The  Landscapes  of  Lco-Cboo— 
The  Cung-guda — Watches  and  Counter- Watches — Commodore  Perry's  Visit  to 
Shui— Disembarkation— The  Order  of  March— Curiosity  of  the  Natives—March  to 
the  Capital— Eeception  at  the  Gate — A  Deception  Prevented — The  Viceroy's  Castle 
— ^The  Inner  Courts — The  Commodores  Reception — A  Tableau — Salutations  and 
Ceremonies— Visit  to  the  Regent's  House — A  State  Banquet  in  Loo-Choo — Edibles 
and  Beverages — Extent  of  the  Dinner— Toasts — The  Interpreter,  Jchiraeichi — De- 
parture— Eiding  a  Loo-Choo  Pony — Eeturn  to  the  Squadron,     .        .        .        .870 

CHAPTEE  XXXL 

Departure — The  Bonin,  or  Arzobispo  Isles— Death  of  a  Chinese  Opium  Smoker— A 
Peruvian  Bark — Approach  to  the  Bonin  Islands — Pilots — Entering  Port  Lloyd — Go- 
ing Ashore— A  Settler's  Hut— Society  on  the  Island— Mode  of  Life— An  Old  Inhab- 
itant and  his  Mate — Productions  of  the  Island — A  Coaling  Station  for  Steamers — 
Bucklaud  Island— A  Basaltic  Cavern — English  Claims  to  the  Islands,       .  889 

CHAPTEE  XXXIL 

Expl(Ming  Parties  Appointed-My  Part- Setting  Out— Climbing  the  Hills— The  Soil 
and  Productions — Land-Crabs — Crossing  a  Eidge — A  Tropical  Eavine — Signs  ol 
Habitation— A  Marquesan  and  his  Household— South- Sea  Pilots- The  Valley— The 
Forest  Again— Trees — Shooting  a  Wild  Boar- The  Southern  Coast— A  Precipice- 
Dangerous  Climbing — A  Frightful  Ravine — Descending  the  Precipices — South-Easi 
Bay— The  Nom -Camp— Ascent  of  the  Eavine — The  Party  beginning  to  Fag— The 
Valley  Again— A  Slippery  Ascent— A  Man  Lost— Firing  Signals— Eeturn  to  the 
Vessel, .        .    398 

CHAPTER  XXXIIL 

BMum  to  Loo-Choo — Malls— Departure  for  Japan — The  Island  of  Ohosima— The 
Japanese  Coast — The  Headland  of  Idzu— Precautionary  Measures — Cape  Sagami — 
The  Bay  of  Yedo — Approach  to  Uraga— A  Hint— T.ie  Squadron  Halts— Japanese 
Boats— A  Talk  at  the  Gangway— The  Vice  Governor  of  Uraga— His  Eeception— 
The  Boats  Repulsed — Japanese  Boatmen — Watch-fires — Yezaimon.  Governor  of 
Uraga— Consultations — An  Express  to  Tedo — The  Emperor  appoints  a  Commissioniir 
—Permission  to  Land— Skilful  Negotiations— Scenery  of  the  Bay— The  Fortifica- 
tions—The Pi^ak  of  Fusl-Yamma— Canvas  Defences— A  Surveying  Party- Sounding 
along  Shore— Forts  and  Soldiers- Threatened  Collision— A  Second  Survey— A  Mi- 
rage— Warlike  Appearances — Lieut.  Bent's  Encounter  with  Forty-five  Jfc,paneee 
Boats— Eesult  of  the  Survey, .     41C 

CHAPTEE  XXXIV. 

Ph«  Day  of  Landing— Preparations  on  Shore — The  Bight  of  Gorl-hama- Japaneae 
Military  Display — Arrival  of  the  Governors— Their  Official  Dresses — PrecAUtlOM 
OB  Board- -The  Procession  of  Boats — An  Insolring  Scene — The  Landing — Namben 


XVI  COITTKNTS. 


of  the  Escort— Th«  Japanese  Troops — The  CJommodore's  Landing— March  to  the 
House  of  Reception  — Japaoeee  Body -Guard— The  Hall  of  Audience— Two  Japanesf 
Princes — Delivery  of  the  President's  Letter— An  Official  Conversation-  Return  to 
tl»e  Squadron, 424 

CHAPTER  XXXV. 

':%e  Japanese  Officers  on  Board— Their  Manners— Their  Dislike  to  the  Chinese— Tbeli 
Swor.*s— Their  Curiosity- Passing  up  the  Bay— Beauty  of  the  Scenery—"  Perry's 
Bay  "—Junks  bound  for  Tedo— Another  Visits-Further  Surveys— The  Natives-  - 
An  Excursion  towards  Yedo— Extent  and  Capacity  of  the  Upper  Baj  —Change  oi 
Anchorage— The  Surveys  Proceed— Interchange  of  Presents— A  Dilemma— Final 
Satisfaction— Farewell  of  the  Japanese  Officials — Commodore  Perry's  Diplomacy- 
Departure  from  Japan— A  Multitude  of  Boats— Oosima— The  Islands  off  the  Bay— 
Discoveries— Formation  of  the  Group — We  Sail  for  Ohoslma— A  Typhoon— Return 
to  Loo-Choo— The  Second  Visit  to  Japan,    ....  ...    488 

CHAPTER  XXXVL 

Negotiations  with  the  New  Regent— Capt  Hall's  Account  of  Loo-Choo — Napoleon's 
Incredulity— Its  Correctness— Verification  of  the  Japanese  Chroniclen-The  Three 
Castles— The  Government  of  Loo-Choo— Provisions  Ibr  the  Squadron— Duplicity 
of  the  Officials— The  Markets  Deserted— The  Spies— The  Telegraph  and  Daguerre- 
otype In  Loo-Choo— Demands  of  Commodore  Perry— The  Regent's  Reply— The 
Commodore  successful— A  Scene  In  the  Market-place — Chase  and  Capture  of  a  Spy 
—The  Coal  Depot— Exhibition  of  Loo-Choo  Industry— National  Contrasts— Steam- 
ship Line  across  the  Pacific, 44fi 

CHAPTER  XXXVIL 

Setum  to  Hong  Kong— End  of  the  Cruise — Experience  of  Naval  Life — My  Duties  on 
Board — "  General  Quarters '" — Our  Crew — Decline  of  Naval  Discipline — False  Sjt 
tem  of  Promotion— Delays— What  is  Needed— Harmony  of  Government  at  Sea— 
The  Abolition  of  Corporeal  Punishment — Want  oi  an  Efficient  Substitute — Govern- 
ment on  Sea  and  Land— Mr.  Kennedy's  Proposal  for  Registered  Seamen — EfiFect  of 
Long  Cruisea— Need  of  Small  Vessels  in  Chinese  Waters,  ....    454 

CHAPTER  XXXVIIL 

Impressions  of  Hong-Kong— A  Man  DrowTsrd  at  Midnight— Hong-Kong  fh)m  the 
Water— The  town  of  Victoria— The  Island  of  Hong-Kong— The  Hong-Kong  Fever- 
Hospitality  of  Foreign  Residents  In  China— Their  Princely  Style  of  Living— Rigid 
Social  Etiquette— Balls— Tropical  Privileges— The  Anglo-Saxon  Abroad,         .    46£ 

CHAPTER  XXXIX 

Morements  of  the  Squadron— Cumslngmoon — The  Naval  Hospital  at  Macao — Qoiel 
Life— A  Chinese  Beggar— The  Band— The  Memories  of  Macao— Sltuaion  of  th« 
Town— Its  Appearance— Desertion  of  the  Place— Its  Tropical  Gardens— The  Cam- 
po — The  Temple  of  Wang  Hya— Anecdote  of  Cnsliing — Society  in  Macao— Chines* 
All-Soals'  Day— Discordant  Noises— The  Grotto  of  CamoCns— The  Casa  Gardens— 
The  Grotto  at  Daybreak  -French  Irreverence— Preparations  to  Retoni  Hom»— 
Leaving  th/i  Naval  8«rvio>-Trips  to  Hong-Kong  and  CamfllBgnjooo,       .       .    414 


CONTENTS.  Xni 


CHAPTER  XL 


Increase  of  the  BquAdron— Disposition  of  the  Vessels— Passage  to  Canton— First  View 
of  the  City— The  Foreign  Factories— Old  and  New  China  Streets— Talking  "  Pi- 
geon English  "—The  Great  Temple  of  Honsn — Ceremonies  of  the  Priests — Sacred 
Books  and  Pigs— The  Lotus  Blossom— Dwellings  of  the  Priests — A  Eetired  Ab 
hot — Opium  Smoking  in  China— The  Oplum-Plpe — Flavor  and  Fascination  of  the 
Drug— Its  Effects — A  Walk  around  Canton- The  Walls— Entering  the  City— For- 
eign Devils — A  Tea-House — Beyond  the  Subarbs — A  Chinese  Panorama — ^Thf 
Feast  of  Lanterns— Dr.  Parker's  Hospital— The  Eve  of  Departure,  .       .    486 

CHAPTEE  XLL 

farewell  to  China— Whampoa — A  Musical  Good-Bye — The  Bogne  Forts — The  Last 
Link— The  China  Sea— Life  on  the  Sea-Serpen1>-The  Straits  of  Mindoro— Pictu- 
resque Islands — Calm  Sailing — Moonlight  in  the  Tropics — "  Summer  Isles  of  Eden  * 
—The  Sooloo  Sea— The  Cagayanes  Islands — Straits  of  Basilan — Mindanao — A  Na- 
tive Proa— The  Sea  of  Celebes — Entering  the  Straits  of  Macassar— Crossing  th« 
Equator— Ofif  Celebes— Lazy  Life— The  Java  Sea— Passing  the  Thousand  Islands- 
Approach  to  the  Straits  of  Sunda, SOf 

CHAPTEE  XLIL 

Altering  the  Straits  of  Sunda— Malay  Boats — The  Mangosteen- Bargaining  with  thv 
Natives — Scenery  of  the  Straits — Angier — Passing  the  Straits — Death  on  Board— 
The  Indian  Ocean— A  Submaiine  Earthquake — A  Tropical  Sunset — A  Fatal  Escape 
—The  Trade  Wind— Mozambique  Channel— The  Coast  of  Africa— Doubling  the 
Cape — Southern  Constellations— Distant  View  of  Table  Mountain — On  the  Atlantic 
—The  Trades  again— Restoration— A  Slaver, 511 

CHAPTEE  XLIII. 

Proposed  Call  at  St  Helena— First  View  of  the  Island— Its  Cllfl^— Approach  to  James- 
town— View  from  the  Anchorage — Landing — The  Town  and  Eavine — Ascending 
the  Gorge — Looking  Down—"  The  Briars  " — Summit  of  the  Island— Pastoral  Land- 
•cape — Sea- View— Approach  to  Longwood— Reception— The  Billiard-Room— Scene 
of  Napoleon's  Death— His  Bedroom— Desecration  of  Longwood— The  New  Eesi 
dence — The  Longwoo.l  Farm— The  "  Crown  and  Rose  "—National  Pecnliaritiob  - 
The  Grave  of  Napoleon — The  Old  Woman's  Welcome — Condition  of  the  Grave — 
BL  Helena  Literature — The  Old  Woman's  Admirable  Story — ^Napoleon's  Spring— 
Betom  to  Jamestown — Departure  from  the  Island 52<? 

CHAPTEE  XLIV. 

rrade  Weatbt:-r— Phosphorescence  of  the  Sea — Ocean  Nymphs — Butterflle*  fn  Mid 
Ocean- The  Noth-East  Trades— A  Gale  off  the  Bermudas— Nautical  Alms-GIvin| 
— The  G.ilf  Suearo— Escape  from  Cape  Uatteras- Fair  Wind— Winter  Weather— 
The  Last  Day  oi  the  V  oyage — Landing  in  New  York— Eetroapect,  084 


IKDIA,  CHINA,  AND  JAPAN. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE     OVERLAND    ROUTE    TO    INDIA. 

LeaTing  Gibraltar— Voyage  up  the  Mediterranean— Landing  at  Alexandria— DiBtribU' 
tion  of  PasseugtTs— A  Cloudy  Day  in  Egypt — A  Joyful  Meeting — The  Desert  Vans— 
We  start  for  Suez— Cockney  Fears— The  Road  and  Station-houses— Suez — Transfer  to 
the  India  Steamers — Our  Passengers  and  Crew — The  Mountains  of  Horeb— Red  Sea 
Weather  and  Scenery— A  Glimpse  of  Mocha— The  Straits  of  Bab-el-Mandeb— An 
Extinct  Hades — The  Fortress  of  Aden — Arriyal — The  Somali — Ride  to  the  Old  Town 
— ^Population  of  Aden— Temperature — The  Fortifications — The  Track  of  the  Anglo- 
Saxon— Departure— Disregard  of  Life— Araby  the  Blest — Life  on  the  Achilles — Ap- 
proach to  India— Land!— The  Ghauts  of  Malabar— Arrival  at  Bombay. 

My  passage  to  Bombay  had  been  secured  a  month  before ; 
the  ticket  was  in  ray  pocket ;  the  horses  I  had  ridden  from 
Granada  had  gone  back  under  charge  of  Jose,  my  merry 
guide  and  groom  ;  and  finally,  on  the  27th  of  November, 
1852,  the  mail  steamer  from  Southampton  to  Alexandria,  two 
days  overdue,  was  signalled  from  the  top  of  Gibraltar  Rock. 
There  was  no  tie  to  bind  me  to  Europe :  my  travelling  trunk 
was  already  {racked,  my  bill  paid,  and  the  needful  stock  of 
Gibraltar  cigars  laid  in.     My  face  was  turned  eastward  ono« 


14  INDIA,  CHINA,  AND  JAPAN. 

more,  but  T  looked  beyond  the  Orient,  to  those  elder  lands  of 
India  and  Cathay,  where  the  sun  of  Egypt  and  of  Greece 
first  rose.  Long  before  the  outward-bound  passengers  had 
finished  their  rambles  in  the  Alameda,  I  went  out  the  water 
gate  of  the  town,  and  the  sunset-gun  found  me  impatiently 
pacing  the  d(?ck  of  the  Haddington, 

Our  vo}  age  up  the  Mediterranean  was  a  dreary  one,  and 
without  any  incident  worthy  of  being  recorded.  There  were 
a  hundred  and  seventy  passengers  on  board,  and  the  cabins 
fore  and  aft  were  stowed  as  closely  as  the  steerage  of  an  emi- 
grant ship.  The  raw,  gusty  weather  we  encountered,  made 
our  quarters  doubly  disagreeable,  while,  owing  to  the  comforta- 
ble indifference  of  the  officers,  nothing  was  done  to  alleviate  the 
annoyance.  In  fact,  it  required  symptoms  of  incipient  ship- 
fever,  and  the  strong  protest  of  a  few  resolute  passengers,  tc 
procure  for  us  the  simple  relief  of  a  wind-sail  in  the  cabin. 
The  fare  resembled  that  of  the  Pacific  Mail  Steamers,  during 
the  first  year  of  their  establishment ;  and  the  price  of  passage 
was  in  about  the  same  ratio.  The  Peninsular  and  Oriental 
Company,  like  all  gieat  monopolies,  is  a  model  of  meanness. 

We  ran  along,  under  the  lee  of  the  Spanish  Mountains,  to 
Cape  de  Gatte,  then  crossed  to  the  13arbary  Coast,  which  we 
Bkii  ted  to  Cape  Bon,  catching  now  and  then  a  rainy  glimpse 
of  the  distant  Atlas,  touched  at  Malta,  and  after  a  vojage  of 
eleven  days — time  enough  to  have  crossed  the  Atlantic — took 
a  pilot  off  Alexandria,  at  daybreak  on  the  8th  of  December. 
[  looked  upon  the  crowd  of  windmills  on  the  Cape  of  Figs, 
the  light-house  on  the  island  of  Pharos,  and  Pompey's  Pillar 
in  the  distance,  with  almost  the  feeling  of  one  returning  tc 
his  native  land.     A  clear,  balmy  Egyptian  morning  welcome* 


DISTRIBUTION    OF   PASSENGERS.  H 

as  after  the  gales  of  the  Mediterranean,  and  the  anchor  had 
not  been  dropped  five  minutes  before  the  passengers  began  tc 
make  for  the  shore.     We  left  our  baggage  in  a  heap  upon  the 
deck,  with  the  assurance  that  we  should  find  it  again,  on  arriv- 
ing at  Suez.     The  Egyptian  Transit  Company  has  puolished 
very  strict  regulations,  limiting  the  length,  breadth,  and  depth 
of  trunks  and  portmanteaus  to  be  conveyed  across.     I  scrupu- 
lously arranged   my   baggage   according   to   these   rules,  but 
5)und,  on  reaching  Alexandria,  that  nobody  else  had  done  so, 
and  that   packages  of  treble  the  prescribed  dimensions  were 
accepted  and  forwarded   without  objection.     Only   two  cwt. 
are  allowed  free,  extra  baggage  to  India  being  charged  at  the 
rate  of  £60  ($300)  per  ton.     Several  of  my  fellow-passengers 
paid  from  £10  to  £20  for  over-weight. 

The  day  before  our  arrival,  a  meeting  of  the  passengers 
was  held,  in  order  to  decide  by  lot  their  respective  places  in 
the  omnibus  vans  from  Cairo  to  Suez.  As  each  van  held  six 
persons,  and  there  were  enough  of  us  to  fill  twenty-eight  vans, 
we  formed  ourselves  into  as  many  parties  of  six  each,  appoint- 
ing one  of  the  number  to  draw.  Those  parties,  for  instance, 
who  drew  the  numbers  from  one  to  ten,  were  sent  off  in  the 
first  steamer  from  Alexandria,  and  the  first  batch  of  vans 
from  Cairo,  and  were  obliged  to  wait  m  Suez  for  the  more 
fortunate  drawers  of  the  last  numbers,  who  thus  gained  a  lit- 
tle time  in  the  former  cities.  As  my  party  had  drawn  one 
of  the  last  vans,  we  had  the  whole  day  in  Alexandria,  which 
enabled  us  to  get  our  letters  and  papers  from  home,  refresh 
ourselves  with  a  Turkish  bath,  and  lay  in  a  stock  of  choice 
Latakieh  for  the  Indian  part  of  the  voyage.  The  hotels  were 
eiled  to  overflowing,  more   than  a  hundred  passengers  from 


|6  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

India  having  been  waiting  six  days  for  our  arriTal.  We 
barely  succeeded  in  finding  seats  at  Key's  Hotel  d'Europe 
The  arched  entrance  resembled  a  bazaar ;  venders  of  tobacco, 
whips,  tarbooshes,  pipes,  shawls  &c.,  thronged  on  all  sides, 
and  the  clamor  of  the  donkey-boys  was  something  terrible  to 
the  uninitiated.  I  found  a  number  of  acquaintances  among 
the  motley  multitude,  most  of  whom  not  only  remembered 
my  face,  but  my  name  also,  hailing  me  with  :  "  Thanks  be  tc 
God,  0  Howadji  T !  you  are  welcome  back !  " 

At  the  appointed  hour,  we  went  on  board  the  barge,  in  the 
Mahmoudieh  Canal,  and  were  towed  off  by  a  small  steamer. 
In  the  sweet,  mild  air  of  the  evening,  we  sat  on  deck,  watch- 
ing the  palm-trees  by  starlight,  till  it  grew  chilly  and  damp 
with  the  heavy  night-dews.  "We  then  went  below,  and  spread 
ourselves  out  on  some  bare  tables  and  benches,  until  2  A.  M.. 
when  we  reached  Atfeh.  Here  a  better  steamer  was  waiting 
for  us.  The  transfer  was  soon  made,  and  in  another  hour  wo 
were  breasting  the  current  of  the  glorious  old  Nile — the 
river  of  rivers.  The  morning  was  cold  and  gray,  and  we  had 
a  dark,  rainy,  disagreeable  day.  I  had  never  known  such 
weather  in  Egypt.  In  fact,  until  an  hour  before  sunset,  when 
the  clouds  broke  away,  it  was  neither  Egypt  nor  the  Nile. 
The  leaves  of  the  palm-trees  were  all  blown  one  way,  the  Fel- 
lahs lay  in  their  huts  for  shelter,  scarcely  a  boat  was  to  be 
Been  on  the  river,  the  camels  and  Bedouins  vanished  from  the 
horizon  of  the  Libyan  Desert,  and  the  dull,  brown,  opaque 
ftood  lost  all  of  the  mystery  and  solemnity  of  its  character. 

It  was  after  dark  before  we  reached  the  Barrage,  at  the  poinl 
of  the  Delta.  Our  Arab  firemen  heaved  the  wood  into  theii 
ftimaces,  until  the  chimney  was  red-hot,  and  9  great  mass  o/ 


A   JOYFUL  MEETLNG.  11 

scarlet  flame,  pouring  out  of  the  top,  flapped  and  snapped  in 
the  wind  like  a  Moslem  banner.  On  we  went,  throwing  aside 
the  turbid  waves,  past  the  glimmering  lights  of  Slioobra  and 
the  dim  minarets  of  Boulak,  till  the  ruddy  glare  of  torches 
on  the  Transit  Wharf  announced  the  end  of  our  voyage. 
Here,  the  passenger-  were  obliged  to  give  up  their  carpet- 
bags, a^*  no  baggage  is  allowed  in  the  Desert  vans.  This  mat- 
ter settle<1,  we  got  into  the  omnibus,  drove  up  the  broad 
avenue  of  acacias,  and  into  the  great  square  of  Cairo. 

I  went  with  my  friends  to  the  Hotel  d'Europe,  and  found 
my  old  landlord.  Monsieur  Nolt4,  as  fat  and  obliging  as  ever. 
To  my  great  joy,  my  faithful  dragoman,  and  companion  on 
the  White  Nile,  Achmet,  was  in  Cairo,  and  as  I  was  obliged 
to  leave  early  the  next  morning  for  Suez,  1  sent  for  him  im- 
mediately. Nothing  could  exceed  the  surprise  and  joy  of  the 
honest  Theban.  We  had  abundance  of  news  for  each  other, 
and  old  experiences  to  talk  over,  and  did  not  separate  until 
long  after  midnight.  Some  of  my  i)arty,  by  rising  early,  rode 
up  to  the  Citadel  by  sunrise ;  but  1  contented  myself  with  a 
donkey-ride  through  the  Ezbekiyeh,  accompanied  by  Achmet 
and  the  little  shaylan  of  a  donkey-boy  who  served  me  a  year 
before.  1  would  have  given  more  than  I  am  willing  to  confess, 
for  the  sake  of  staying  a  month  in  Egypt.  Cairo,  in  the  win- 
ter, is  one  of  the  most  delightful  cities  in  the  world  ;  and  the 
brief  morning  glance  I  had  of  it  brought  back  with  double 
force  the  charms  of  my  past  Oriental  life. 

At  8  o'clock,  I  bade  adieu  to  Monsieur  Nolt^,  and 
Achmet  and  the  donkey-boy,  and  took  my  place  in  the  allot- 
^d  van.  These  vehicles  bear  a  strong  resemblance  to  a 
baker's  cart.     They  are  about  six  feet  by  four  in  size,  mounted 


18  INDIA,  CHINA,   AND  JAPAN. 

OQ  a  single  pair  of  wheels,  and  entered  by  a  door  in  th« 
rear.  Each  van  carries  six  persons,  so  you  may  conceive  that 
there  is  ver}'  little  vacant  space.  The  driver  sits  on  a  box  in 
front,  and  an  Arab  assistant  rides  on  the  step  behind.  There 
are  four  horses  to  each,  which  are  changed  about  every  five 
miles.  The  distance  to  Suez — 84  miles — is  divided  into  six- 
teen stages,  and  the  usual  length  of  the  journey  is  sixteen 
hours. 

Our  six  vans,  forming  one  *'  batch,"  as  it  is  called,  receive 
their  respective  parties,  and  we  dash  out  of  Cairo  by  the  Suez 
gate.  The  morning  is  exquisitely  mild,  fair,  and  balmy,  and 
the  palm-groves  of  the  Nile,  on  our  left,  never  looked  more 
beautiful.  Outside  of  the  gate  there  is  an  encampment  of 
Beveral  hundred  tents,  which  we  take  to  be  those  of  the  pil- 
grims preparing  for  their  journey  to  Mecca.  Some  of  the 
party  are  absorbed  in  the  Tombs  of  the  Caliphs,  and  others 
in  Abbas  Pasha's  white  Italian  palace,  when,  as  we  climb  a 
long,  sandy  rise — the  first  step  of  the  Desert — an  eye  that 
knows  in  what  direction  to  look,  sees  the  Pyramids  looming 
large  and  blue,  far  away  over  the  city.  You  can  look  at  noth- 
mg  else,  when  you  have  the  Pyramids  in  your  landscape,  and 
so  we  watch  them  fade,  and  sink,  and  recede,  till  our  horses 
draw  up  at  the  first  station  in  the  Desert. 

Yes,  this  is  the  Desert:  but  the  young  lady  who  goes  out 
to  be  married  in  India  would  not  have  thought  it.  The  Nile 
Valley  is  still  in  sight  behind  us;  but  even  looking  toward 
the  Red  Sea,  here  is  a  broad  macadamized  road,  filled  with 
camels,  and  Arabs,  and  donkeys,  to  say  nothing  of  our  six 
rapid  coaches;  two  telegraph  towers  on  the  sandy  hills;  and 
five  miles  before  us,  the  station  where  we  shall  again  change 


COCKNEY  FEARS — THE  DE8EB1.  19 

ikorses.  It  is  a  barren,  desolate  country,  certainly ;  but  it  v 
not  the  Desert  of  one's  dreams — not  that  silent,  fiery  world  of 
tawny  sand  and  ink-black  porphyry  mountains  in  the  heart  of 
Nubia,  over  which  I  had  travelled  a  year  before. 

I  was  amused  at  seeing  many  of  our  passengers,  immedi 
ately  on  reaching  Alexandria,  wind  great  white  shawls  around 
their  hats,  and  hang  green  veils  over  their  faces.  While 
crossing  the  Desert,  although  the  temperature  was  not  above 
70®  at  noon,  they  persisted  in  doing  the  same  thing,  and  some 
of  them  even  protected  their  eyes  with  spectacles,  although 
there  was  no  glare  that  would  have  made  an  infant  wink 
According  to  their  ideas,  they  were  in  constant  peril  of  hav- 
ing a  sun-stroke,  or  catching  the  ophthalmia.  My  com- 
panions on  the  van  were  inured  to  an  Indian  sun,  and  so  we 
threw  aside  all  fears,  and  made  merry  from  one  side  of  the 
desert  to  the  other.  At  the  fourth  station  we  stopped  an 
hour  to  breakfast.  Here  we  found  a  spacious  two-story 
house,  with  a  large  dining-salon,  divans,  Sac,  and  an  excellent 
breakfast  for  thirty  persons  on  the  table.  There  were  several 
neat  l^edrooms  for  the  accommodation  of  persons  who  wish 
to  make  the  journey  more  slowly. 

The  country  through  which  we  passed  was  low  and  monoto- 
nous, and  we  saw  no  mountains  until  we  approached  the  Red 
Sea.  There  are  three  trees  on  the  road — one  large  and  two 
small  ones,  but  no  wells.  At  the  eighth,  or  half-way  station, 
we  had  dinner,  and  were  allowed  two  hours  rest.  The  meals 
were  all  gotten  up  and  served  by  natives,  the  Transit  Ad- 
ministration being  a  perquisite  of  the  Pasha  of  Egypt.  Con- 
sidering that  every  thing  has  to  be  brought  from  Cairo,  they 
were  very  good  indeed.    Opposite  the  Central  Station,  Abbai 


20  INDIA,   CHINA,   ANB   JAPAK 

Pfislia  built  a  large  palace  on  the  summit  of  a  hill,  whew 
ne  often  went  to  spend  a  few  days  and  breathe  the  health/ 
desert  air.  All  the  supplies,  of  course,  have  to  be  brought 
from  the  Nile — ^a  distance  of  nearly  fifty  miles.  I  approve 
entirely  of  the  Pasha's  taste,  and  should  like  nothing  bettef 
than  the  use  of  a  suite  of  apartments  in  the  palace  for  a  few 
•nonths.  The  long  white  front  of  the  building,  crowning  a 
naked  range  of  gray  hills,  has  a  striking  effect  when  viewed 
from  the  Suez  road. 

The  sun  set  before  we  left  the  midway  station.  We  drove 
on  in  the  dark,  without  other  incident  than  passing  long 
strings  of  camels  laden  with  our  baggage,  and  the  specie  and 
mails  tor  India.  Now  and  then  some  of  our  teams  would 
come  to  a  halt  in  a  streak  of  deep  sand,  and  this  would  detain 
all  the  others,  for  the  orders  are  very  strict  that  the  vans 
should  keep  together.  There  are  no  ascents  or  descents  on 
the  road  worth  notice.  A  raiboad  could  be  constructed  with 
but  moderate  trouble  and  expense.* 

An  hour  after  midnight  we  reached  Suez,  and  were  at 
once  driven  to  the  Government  Hotel,  a  dreary  quadrangular 
Duilding  on  the  sea-shore.  The  rooms  were  all  filled,  of 
course,  but  we  obtained  a  cotton  quilt  and  part  of  a  hard 
divan  in  the  billiard-room,  at  the  rate  of  a  dollar  apiece. 
All  the  baggage  arrived  during  the  night.  Even  the  specie- 
laden  camels,  which  left  Cairo  at  the  same  time  as  ourselves, 


*  Recent  mails  from  the  East  (May,  1855)  announce  that  Said  Pasha 
has  detennined  to  extend  the  Alexandria  and  Cairo  Railroad,  now  nearly 
completed,  to  Suez.  It  the  work  is  prosecuted  with  the  same  vigor  ai 
heretofore,  the  transit  from  Alexandria  to  the  latter  place,  three  yean 
will  occupy  but  eight  or  ten  hour 


SUEZ  21 

j^ere  at  Suez  early  the  next  morning.  The  t^o  steamers,  the 
Hindostan  and  Achilles,  lay  at  the  anchorage,  three  miles  off 
but  there  was  a  smaller  steamer  in  waiting  to  take  us  out. 
Our  baggage,  tickets,  and  other  preliminaries,  engaged  all  out 
time,  and  I  saw  nothing  of  Suez  except  the  white  quadrangle 
of  the  hotel,  two  ugly  minarets,  and  a  great  ciuantity  of  mud 
huts.  I  suspect  these  are  about  as  much  as  anybody  sees. 
The  American  flag  was  flying  from  a  lofty  flag-stafi",  on  ac- 
eount  of  the  presence  of  the  Hon.  Humphrey  Marshall,  U.  S. 
Commissioner  to  China,  who  was  on  board  the  Hindostan.  I 
took  leave  of  a  number  of  good  friends,  who  were  bound  to 
Madras,  Calcutta,  and  China,  and  went  on  board  the  Achilles. 
The  day  was  excessively  hot  and  sultry,  and  the  Captain  of 
our  steamer  received  a  sun-stroke  while  on  shore,  from  the 
effects  of  which  he  was  confined  to  his  berth  during  the  whole 
voyage. 

We  weighed  anchor  about  10  o'clock  the  same  evening, 
the  Hindostan  having  left  an  hour  before  us.  Our  passen- 
gers were  between  seventy  and  eighty  in  number,  and  as  the 
Achilles  rated  less  than  a  thousand  tons,  we  were  crowded 
rather  too  much  for  comfort,  though  in  all  respects  we  fared 
better  than  we  did  on  board  the  Haddington.  The  stewards! 
were  mostly  Hindoos,  the  sailors  the  same,  the  cooks  two  Por- 
tuguese and  a  Chinaman,  and  the  firemen  hideous,  monkey- 
faced  negroes  from  Mozambique.  Among  the  passengers  were 
a  Portuguese  General,  the  Grovernor  of  Mozambique,  a  Turkish 
Bey,  Ambassador  to  Yemen,  and  a  Transylvanian,  who  for 
fifteen  years  was  Court  Physician  to  Runjeet  Singh  at 
Lahore,  and  was  then  bound  for  Cashmere  and  ThibAt 
Amid  such  a  motley  gathering  of  character  and  nationalities 


t2  vJWDIA,   CHINA,   AND  JAFAN. 

there  was  oo  lack  of  diversion.  For  myself,  when  1  drani 
Bombay  water,  at©  re-il  curry,  hailed  the  waiter  as  "  kbit- 
mudgar  ! "  and  was  addressed  by  bim  as  "  sabib ! "  I  felt  that 
I  was  already  in  India. 

The  morning  showed  us  the  shores  of  Egypt  on  the  one 
band,  and  the  red  mountains  of  the  Sinaitic  Peninsula  on  the 
other.  The  Gulf  of  Suez  is  so  narrow  that  you  have  a  dis- 
tinct view  of  both  shores,  alike  hopelessly  sterile,  but  en- 
chanting in  outline  and  color.  The  thousand-fold  shadows  of 
those  sandstone  mountains,  tinted  with  the  fairest  rose,  pur- 
ple, and  violet  hues,  are  pencilled  with  the  delicacy  of  a  min- 
iature painting.  The  loftier  range  of  Horeb,  which  rises 
inland,  presents  a  sharp,  serrated  outline.  I  tried  to  per- 
suade myself  that  I  saw  the  peak  of  Sinai,  but  the  ship's 
officers  insisted  that  it  was  not  visible  from  the  Gulf  of  Suez. 
In  addition  to  the  absorbing  interest  of  the  scene,  the  shores 
had  a  grand  continental  significance.  Here  was  Africa,  there 
Asia.  Like  the  Bosphonis  which  parts  Europe  and  Asia,  or 
the  straits  of  Gibraltar,  where  Africa  confronts  Europe,  this 
part  of  the  Red  Sea  possesses  a  grandeur  beyond  that  which 
Nature  gives  it. 

In  the  afternoon  we  passed  Ras  Mohammed,  at  the  ex- 
tremity of  the  Peninsula  where  the  Gulf  of  Akaba  joins  that 
of  Suez.  We  then  lost  sight  of  the  Arabian  shore,  while 
only  the  higher  peaks  of  the  mountains  in  tlie  deserts  of 
Egypt  and  Nubia  were  visible.  On  the  13th,  we  entered  the 
tropics,  and  each  day  thenceforth  showed  a  marked  increase 
of  temperature.  By  the  noon  observation  on  the  following 
day,  we  were  in  Lat.  21°  30',  off  the  port  of  Djidda.  and  no! 
than  a  hundred  miles,  in  a  straight  line,  from  Mecca— 


REli    SEA    WEATHER    AND    SCENEBY.  23 

probably  the  nearest  approach  I  shall  ever  make  to  the  Holy 
City. 

After  passing  St.  John's  Islands,  off  the  ancient  port  of 
Berenice,  we  lost  sight  of  both  shores  until  the  evening  of  the 
I6th,  when  Djebel  Tor,  or  Teir,  a  lofty  volcanic  island,  ap- 
peared on  the  left.  Early  the  next  morning  we  made  Djebe? 
Sogheir,  and  ran  along  close  to  its  shores.  It  is  about  a 
thousand  feet  in  height,  and  resembles  a  huge  mass  of  cin- 
ders. Some  palms  were  growing  on  the  northern  slope,  but 
there  was  no  sign  of  habitation.  We  had  a  violent  head- 
wind, or  rather  gale,  similar  to  those  which  are  frequently 
met  with  off  the  mouth  of  the  Gulf  of  California.  Yet,  in 
Bpite  of  this  strong  current  of  air,  the  thermometer  stood  at 
S5°  on  deck  and  90°  in  the  cabin.  For  two  or  three  days  we 
lad  a  temperature  of  90°  to  95°.  This  part  of  the  Red  Sea  is 
considered  to  be  the  hottest  portion  of  the  earth's  surface.  In  the 
summer  the  air  is  like  that  of  a  furnace,  and  the  bare  red  moun- 
tains glow  like  heaps  of  live  coals.  The  steamers  at  that 
time  almost  invariably  lose  some  of  their  stewards  and  fire- 
men. Cooking  is  quite  given  up,  and  the  panting  and  swel 
tering  passengers  drink  claret  and  water  and  eat  dry  biscuits. 

In  the  afternoon  we  had  a  glimpse  of  the  town  of  Mocha 
about  ten  miles  distant.  It  is  built  on  low  land,  but  a  range 
of  mountains  rises  in  the  background.  With  a  telescope,  I 
could  plainly  distinguish  the  white  citadel,  and  a  long  line  of 
low,  flat-roofed  buildings,  looming  through  the  hot  vapors  of 
the  coast.  The  famous  Mocha  coffee  does  not  grow  in  the 
vicinity  of  the  town,  but  is  brought  from  the  valleys  of  the 
interior.  Hodeida,  further  up  the  coast,  is  another  port  for 
its  exportation,  but  the  foreign  trade  of  both  these  places  ha$ 


24  INDIA,   CHINA,    .VND  JAPAN. 

been  almost  entirely  destroyed  by  the  rise  of  Aden.  The  cof 
fee  is  taken  down  to  the  latter  port  in  the  native  coasters,  oi 
by  caravans  from  the  interior,  and  there  shipped  for  Europe  and 
other  parts  of  the  world.  Much  of  the  so-called  Mocha  coffee, 
I  am  told,  is  actually  grown  in  Abyssinia. 

We  now  approached  the  Straits  of  Bab-el-^Iandeb,  th? 
"  Gate  of  Tears,"  which  we  passed  about  midnight.  The  pas* 
sao^e  for  vessels  is  about  three  miles  wide,  and  not  at  all  dan- 
gerous in  clear  weather.  The  Arabian  and  Abyssinian  shores 
are  hilly,  but  not  mountainous.  Had  not  the  weather  been  so 
hazy,  we  should  have  seen  the  lofty  range  of  the  Danakil,  on 
the  Abyssinian  side.  The  latitude  of  the  Straits  is  about 
12°  40',  about  the  same  which  I  had  attained  the  previou 
winter,  on  the  White  Nile. 

On  the  next  morning  we  were  in  the  Indian  Ocean.  The 
barren  volcanic  headlands  of  Arabia  Felix  rose  on  our  lefl, 
point  beyond  point,  till  at  last  a  larger  and  loftier  mass  was 
declared  to  be  the  Rock  of  Aden.  The  pale-green  water 
through  which  we  were  sailing  told  of  reefs  and  shoals,  and 
the  ship  made  a  wide  curve  to  the  eastward  before  entering 
the  bay.  The  main  land  of  Arabia  presents  a  level,  sandy 
coast,  with  few  indentations,  and  the  Bay  of  Aden  is  formed 
by  two  narrow  peninsulas  which  project  from  it  at  right  angles, 
their  extremities  shooting  up  suddenly  into  clusters  of  black, 
ragged  volcanic  cones,  about  1,500  feet  in  height.  No  de- 
scription can  give  any  idea  of  the  savage  sterility  of  these 
mountains.  They  are  masses  of  cinders  and  scoriae,  glowing 
as  if  with  still  unextinguished  fires,  and  the  air  around  them 
quivers  with  the  heat  radiated  from  their  sides.  Their  formi 
exhibit  all  the  violence  of  the  convulsion  which  created  them 


THE    F0RTRES8    01'^    ADEN.  2fk 

heaps  of  V^urned  fragments,  cliffs  divided  by  deep  fissures,  and 
sharp,  inaccessible  cones,  shooting  upward  like  congealed 
flames  from  the  rubbish  of  extinct  craters.  Some  profane 
tourist  speaks  of  Aden  as  resembling  "  Hell  with  the  fires 
put  out " — a  forcible  simile,  but  very  much  to  the  point. 

The  town  and  fortress  of  Aden  occupy  the  eastern  pe- 
ninsula, which  was  obtained  from  the  Sultan  of  Lahadj,  in  the 
year  1839,  partly  by  force  and  partly  by  treaty.  The  sum  of 
$250,000  was  paid  to  the  Sultan  by  the  East  India  Company, 
and  the  chieftain  prudently  sold  what  was  already  more  than 
half  wrested  from  him.  Nevertheless,  his  son  and  successor 
did  his  best  to  have  the  bargain  annulled,  offering  to  refund 
the  money.  This  was  of  course  rejected,  and  the  place  was 
for  a  number  of  years  exposed  to  assaults  from  the  Arabs  of 
Lahadj,  who  were  violently  opposed  to  the  sale,  and  to  the 
establishment  of  a  foreign  colony  on  the  coast.  In  spite  of  all 
precautions,  robbery  and  murder  were  constantly  perpetrated 
in  the  town  and  camp,  until  the  fortifications  on  the  land-side 
were  completed.  At  present,  there  is  tolerable  security  inside 
of  the  walls,  but  no  one  ventures  many  miles  into  the  interior, 
unless  attended  by  a  strong  armed  escort.  The  harbor  of 
Aden  was  known  to  the  Romans,  and  its  importance  as  a 
point  of  communication  with  the  Indies  seems  to  have  been 
understood  by  the  Turks,  as  there  are  still  the  remains  of  for- 
tifications^ which  were  constructed  in  the  time  of  Solyman 
the  Magnificent.  The  rock  is  about  six  miles  in  length,  by 
from  two  to  three  in  breadth,  and  its  highest  point  is  said  tc 
oe  1 ,800  feet  above  the  sea. 

We  ran  in,  along  the  western  base,  until  on  turning  a  small 
headland,  we  came  upon  a  sheltered  roadstead,  in  which  half  a 
2 


26  JMDIA.    CHINA,    AND    JAl  AN. 

dozen  EDglish  colliers  and  a  number  of  small  Arab  craft  Ja} 
at  anchor.  Here  our  own  anchor  dropped,  and  the  ship  was 
presently  surrounded  by  boats  rowed  by  half-naked  blacks, 
some  of  whom  made  themselves  entirely  so,  and  commenced 
diving  and  splashing  in  the  water,  in  the  hope  of  getting 
shillings  thrown  over  for  them  to  fish  up.  A  few  long,  one- 
story  white  houses  and  some  heaps  of  Newcastle  coal  were 
scattered  over  a  level  piece  of  sand,  at  the  head  of  a  cove,  and 
on  a  slight  eminence  towards  the  sea  there  was  a  group 
of  cane  huts,  built  in  the  Robinson  Crusoe  style.  On  this 
eminence  there  is  a  sunken  battery,  barely  visible  from  the 
water,  but  said  to  be  strong  enough  to  sink  any  hostile  vessel 
which  may  attempt  to  enter  the  harbor.  A  few  days  before 
our  arrival,  a  French  corvette,  which  had  been  cruising  in  the 
Indian  Ocean,  came  into  Aden  with  her  guns  ready  shotted 
and  manned,  in  full  expectation  of  being  fired  upon,  her  com 
mander  supposing  that  Louis  Napoleon  had  commenced  the 
invasion  of  England.  I  went  ashore  in  a  small  boat,  rowed 
by  four  Somali,  or  natives  of  the  African  coast,  near  Cape 
Guardafui.  They  appear  to  be  a  low  variety  of  the  Arab  race, 
having  dark  brown  skins,  deep-set  eyes,  long,  straight  noses, 
and  handsome,  curling  hair.  They  are  less  partial  to  mutton- 
fat  than  the  tribes  on  the  Red  Sea,  but  their  long  locks,  which 
are  naturally  of  a  glossy  blue-black  hue,  are  dyed  brown,  or 
dark  red,  which  imparts  a  goat-like,  satyric  air  to  their  lank, 
nimble  figures.  Their  language  is  a  very  bad  Arabic,  whi(;h 
I  could  with  difficulty  understand.  No  sooner  had  we  landed 
than  we  were  surrounded  with  the  owners  of  donkeys  and 
horf^s,  anxious  to  hire  them  to  as  for  a  ride  to  Aden.     The 


BIDE    TO    THE    OLD    TOWN.  27 

aid  town  lies  on  the  other  side  of  the  Peninsula,  und  is  no< 
visible  from  the  landing-place. 

I  took  a  horse  and  rode  off  at  once,  followed  by  the  at- 
tendant native.  The  road,  which  is  alternately  of  sand  and 
macadamized  volcanic  cinders,  follows  the  curve  of  the  bay 
towards  the  northern  end  of  the  rock,  where  there  is  a  strong 
gate,  affording  the  only  land  communication  with  the  sandy 
Arabian  plains  beyond.  The  natives  are  here  obliged  to  give 
up  their  arms,  owing  to  which  precaution  there  are  now  but  few 
crimes  committed,  in  comparison  with  former  years.  As  I 
rode  along,  between  the  black,  scorched  hills,  and  over  the 
blistering  sand,  amid  the  almost  insupportable  glare  of  white 
Doonday  heat,  my  eyes  turned  to  seek  the  dazzling  blue  and 
violet-green  tints  of  the  bay  with  an  exquisite  sense  of  relie£ 
After  two  or  three  miles  of  this  travel,  the  road  turned  inland, 
psceuding  the  less  abrupt  slopes  of  the  hills.  I  came  at  length 
to  an  artificial  pass,  about  forty  feet  deep,  by  twenty  wide,  cut 
through  the  comb  of  the  central  ridge.  It  was  closed  by  a 
ponderous  double  gateway,  and  the  wall  of  circumvallation 
crossed  by  an  arch.  An  Indian  sepoy  stood  guard  at  the  gate 
as  I  passed  through.  The  road  was  filled  with  Arabs  from  the 
interior,  bringing  camel-loads  of  their  produce  to  market,  and 
with  the  mongrel  natives  of  the  African  coast.  Among  the 
latter  I  readily  distinguished  the  natives  of  Adel,  the  country 
lying  south  of  Abyssinia.  Major  Harris,  in  his  "  Highlands 
of  Ethiopia,"  calls  them  the  '-mild-eyed  Adael,"  and  truly 
the  expression  of  their  features  is  feminine  in  its  mildness  and 
gentleness.  They,  as  well  as  the  natives  of  Aden,  speak  Arabic 
substituting  only  the  Hindoostanee  word  "  mhib "  (master,/ 
for  the  "  Eowadji  "   of  Egypt. 


^  INDIA;    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

Beyond  the  pass,  the  town  of  Aden  came  into  view,  h 
lies  in  a  circular  sandy  basin,  almost  enclosed  by  black  moun- 
tains of  volcanic  cinder.  The  buildings,  which  are  spaciou? 
huts  of  wood,  cane  or  mud,  one  story  in  height,  are  scattered 
over  an  extent  of  three  quarters  of  a  mile.  The  dry  bed  of 
a  torrent  which  divides  the  town,  proves  that  it  sometimes  rains 
at  Aden,  although  I  was  informed  that  a  heavy  fall  of  rain 
does  not  occur  more  than  once  or  twice  a  year.  A  new  mosque, 
a  small  Christian  Church,  and  a  tall  tower  (built,  I  believe,  for 
an  observatory),  were  the  only  objects  which  distinguished  them- 
selves amid  the  mass  of  huts.  There  were  two  or  three  feeble 
attempts  at  cultivating  small  square  yards  of  ground,  and 
these  pigmy  specks  of  green  gave  life  and  cheerfulness  to  a 
scene  which  would  otherwise  have  been  depressing  from  its 
utter  desolation.  The  only  water  on  the  peninsula  is  brackish 
and  disagreeable,  and  is  rarely  used  in  an  unmixed  state.  The 
Arabs  bring  a  better  kind  from  the  opposite  headland,  for 
which  they  are  paid  at  the  rate  of  $1.50  per  100  gallons. 
The  only  things  the  place  affords  are  fish  and  oysters;  all 
other  supplies  must  be  imported.  There  are  a  number  of 
shops  in  the  town,  kept  by  Hindoo  merchants,  and  there  for 
the  first  time  I  saw  the  Parsee,  or  Fire- Worshipper,  wearing; 
the  high  chintz  mitre  which  is  peculiar  to  his  sect. 

I  made  the  tour  of  the  airy  bamboo  huts  on  the  beach, 
where  the  78th  Regiment  was  quartered.  The  soldiers  were 
lounging  lazily  in  the  shade,  for  since  the  wall  of  defence  has 
been  finished,  their  duties  are  very  light.  Some  of  the 
•fficers  had  brought  their  families  with  them,  so  that  there  was  a 
small  English  community.  The  temperature  of  Aden  ranges 
encrally  from    80°  to  90°,  with   a  maximum   of  98°.  and   8 


THE    FORTIFICATIONS. 


mmimum  of  75^,  being  more  equable  than  almost  any  othei 
climate  in  the  world.  As  there  is  no  miasma  from  vegetable 
matter,  it  is  considered  healthy.  An  officer  who  had  been 
stationed  there  more  than  four  years,  informed  me  that  out  of 
ninety  men  whom  he  brought  with  him,  he  had  only  lost  two. 

I  rode  through  the  bazaar  in  the  native  part  of  the  town 
The  principal  commodities  were  coarse  cotton  stuffs,  dates, 
sugar,  spices,  and  bad  tobacco.  I  dismounted  at  a  small  coffee 
shop,  but  both  the  coffee  and  the  narghileh  were  so  intolerably 
bad  that  I  gave  them  to  the  nearest  native.  A  large  crowd  of 
Arabs  collected  around  me,  and  the  most  intelligent  of  them 
asked  me  the  news  from  Damascus  and  Stamboul.  They  said 
there  had  recently  been  war  in  Yemen,  and  that  Shekb  Hoa 
sayn  was  then  at  the  head  of  the  tribes.  Leaving  the  town, 
I  returned  to  the  western  side  of  the  peninsula  and  visited 
the  Turkish  Wall,  which  is  the  main  defence  of  the  place,  on 
the  land  side.  The  Rock  of  Aden  resembles  that  of  Grib- 
raltar  in  being  attached  to  the  main  land  by  a  narrow  strip 
of  sand,  but  instead  of  presenting  an  unbroken  line  of  pre- 
cipice, as  at  the  latter  place,  the  hills  form  a  crescent,  with 
the  concave  side  toward  the  north.  The  points  of  this 
crescent  are  connected  by  a  powerful  wall,  further  protected 
by  a  deep  moat  and  sloping  glacis,  and  the  heights  at  each  end 
are  crowned  with  batteries.  Immense  sums  have  been  ex- 
pended on  these  fortifications,  which,  though  far  from  being 
completed,  now  afford  perfect  security  against  foes  by  land. 

The  value  of  Aden  as  a  naval  station  has  been  much  ex- 
aggerated. It  has  been  called  the  "  Gibraltar  of  the  East," 
perhaps  with  reason,  since,  like  Gibraltar,  it  can  be  of  no  use 
^thont  a  fleet.     At  present  it  could  scarcely  be  called  im- 


30  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

pregnable,  but  were  it  so,  might  readily  be  starved  into  capit 
ulation,  as  Gibraltar  might  be,  if  England  should  lose  hei 
naval  supremacy.  Nevertheless,  as  a  necessary  station  od 
the  Overland  Route,  its  possession  is  of  the  utmost  impor 
tance  to  England,  and  it  belongs  to  her  geographically ^  aa 
the  Fillibusters  say.  The  fortifications  are  most  admirablj 
planned.  The  skill  and  genius  exhibited  in  their  design  im- 
pressed me  far  more  than  the  massive  strength  of  Gibraltar 
[  never  felt  more  forcibly  the  power  of  that  civilization  which 
follows  the  Anglo-Saxon  race  in  all  its  conquests,  and  takes  root 
in  whatever  corner  of  the  earth  that  race  sets  its  foot.  Here, 
on  the  farthest  Arabian  shore,  facing  the  most  savage  and 
inhospitable  regions  of  Africa,  were  Law,  Order,  Security, 
Freedom  of  Conscience  and  of  Speech,  and  all  the  material 
advantages  which  are  inseparable  from  these.  Herein  con- 
sists the  true  power  and  grandeur  of  the  race,  and  the  assu- 
rance of  its  final  supremacy. 

The  population  of  Aden,  which  was  little  more  than  1,000 
at  the  time  it  was  acquired  by  England,  now  amounts  tc  up- 
wards of  20,000.  It  has  almost  ruined  Mocha  and  the  other 
Arabian  ports  on  the  Red  Sea,  having  usurped  the  greater 
part  of  their  commerce.  It  is  a  free  port,  and  the  native 
merchants  are  but  too  willing  to  transfer  their  trade  to  it, 
thereby  escaping  the  burdensome  and  indiscriminate  duties 
exacted  by  the  Turkish  Government.  The  resident  merchanti 
in  Mocha,  Hodeida  and  Djidda  have  petitioned  the  East  India 
Company  to  establish  Customs  at  Aden,  but  without  efi'ect. 

The  Achilles  took  on  board  three  hundred  tons  of  coal, 
and  at  half-past  nine  in  the  evening  fired  her  signal  gun  foi 
the  passengers  to  come  oiF.     One  young  lady,  however,  re 


THE    INDIAN    OCEAN.  3l 

mained  nearly  two  hours  longer,  tlie  steamer  waiting  soleij  on 
her  account.  Less  consideration  was  shown  to  a  lucklesa 
native,  who  had  fallen  asleep  in  one  of  the  boats  and  was  not 
observed  until  we  were  under  way.  He  was  immediately 
thrown  overboard  in  spite  of  his  entreaties,  and  left  to  take  hia 
chance  of  reaching  the  shore,  which  was  half  a  mile  distant 
There  was  a  collier  lying  about  a  hundred  yards  off,  but  he 
would  not  be  able  to  get  on  board  of  her  so  late  at  night,  and 
the  forcing  of  him  into  the  sea,  under  the  circumstances 
showed  a  most  criminal  disregard  of  human  life. 

On  the  following  day,  some  mountains  about  a  hundred 
miles  east  of  Aden  were  in  sight ;  they  were  our  last  view  of 
Araby  the  Blest.  We  were  from  fifteen  to  twenty  miles  dis- 
tant from  the  shore,  and  the  loveliest  tints  of  violet,  lilac  and 
rose-color  concealed  its  sterility.  After  leaving  the  Red  Sea, 
the  temperature  became  a  few  degrees  cooler,  the  thermometer 
showing  80°  at  night,  and  85°  to  87°  at  noon.  The  Indian 
Ocean  was  calm  and  peaceful,  the  violence  of  the  north-east 
monsoon  being  over,  so  that,  although  it  blew  in  our  faces,  it 
only  served  to  freshen  our  nights  and  noons.  We  took  our 
meals  under  an  awning  on  deck,  and  some  of  the  passengers 
preferred  sleeping  there.  Where  this  open-air  life  is  possible 
at  sea,  a  long  voyage  is  endurable — otherwise,  rather  a  thou 
sand  miles  on  land,  than  a  hundred  on  the  waters. 

Our  fare  was  so  much  better  than  that  on  board  the  Had 
dington,  that  we  aid  not  complain  much.  The  coffee  and  tea, 
however,  gave  evidence  of  astonishing  skill,  for  I  never  im- 
\gined  it  possible  that  these  beverages  could  be  so  badly  made. 
The  passengers  were  often  quite  unable  to  distinguish  oni 
Ijom  the  other.     On  the  other  hand  we  had  capital  bread,  the 


32  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAK, 

baker  being  a  Chinaman,  who  kept  secret  his  manner  of  pre 
paring  it.  The  curry  was  genuine,  and  would  have  compen- 
sated for  many  deficiencies  in  other  respects.  On  Christmas 
Day  we  had  a  handsome  banquet  on  deck,  and  turkey  was 
liberally  dispensed  to  all  on  board.  The  evening  was  spent  ic 
festivities,  the  passengers  dancing  polkas  on  the  quarter-deck, 
the  wild  Africans  yelling  and  clapping  hands  amid-ships,  and 
the  sailors  performing  hornpipes  on  the  forecastle. 

The  distance  from  Aden  to  Bombay  is  1,664  miles,  and 
after  having  been  at  sea  nine  days,  with  a  prospect  of  getting 
out  of  coal,  we  grew  at  last  somewhat  impatient.  Finally, 
on  the  morning  of  the  27th  of  December — precisely  a  month 
after  I  embarked  at  Gibraltar — the  cessation  of  the  monsoon, 
the  sultriness  of  the  air,  the  appearance  of  the  clouds,  and  the 
arrival  of  a  dove  on  board,  denoted  the  proximity  of  land.  I 
have  rarely  approached  any  country  with  a  keener  interest. 
Scarce  Vasco  de  Grama  himself,  after  weathering  the  Cape 
of  Storms,  could  have  watched  for,  the  shores  of  India  with 
more  excited  anticipation.  That  vision  of  gorgeous  Ind,  the 
Empress  far  away  in  the  empurpled  East,  throned  on  the  best 
grandeurs  of  History  and  canopied  by  sublime  tradition,  was 
about  to  be  confirmed,  or  displaced  for  ever.  Near  at  hand, 
close  behind  the  blue  sea-horizon,  lay  that  which  would  either 
aeighten  the  fascination  of  her  name,  or  make  it  thenceforth 
but  an  empty  sound  to  the  ear  of  Fancy. 

Therefore,  in  spite  of  the  breathless  heat.  I  keep  watch 
from  one  of  the  paddle-boxes.  At  noon  there  is  a  cry  of 
"  Land  !  "  from  the  foremast,  and  in  a  short  time  the  tops  of 
mountains  are  faintly  discernible  on  the  horizon.  These  are 
the  Western  Ghauts,  which  extend  along  the  Malabar  Coast* 


aPPROACfl    lu    -BuMBAY.  33 

irom  Cape  Comorin  to  Surat.  The  island  of  Salsotte,  north 
of  Bombaj,  next  rises,  and  ere  long  we  distinguish  the  light 
house,  at  the  entrance  of  the  harbor.  A  considerable  extent 
of  coast,  north  and  south,  is  visible — the  mountains  picturesque 
and  beautiful  in  their  forms,  and  exhibiting,  in  their  drapery 
of  forests,  a  marked  contrast  to  the  desert  hills  of  Arabia, 
which  we  have  last  seen.  We  are  now  near  enough  to  distin- 
guish the  city,  the  dwellings  of  the  residents  on  Malabar  Hill, 
and  the  groves  of  cocoa-nut  and  date  trees  which  cover  the 
island.  The  sea  swarms  with  fishing-boats,  and  our  native 
pilot  is  already  on  board.  We  are  signalled  from  the  light- 
Ihouse,  and  being  five  days  behind  our  time,  are  no  doubt  anjf 
iously  looked  for. 

The  B.'iy  opens  magnificently  as  we  advance.  It  lies  be- 
tween the  islands  of  Bombay  and  Salsette  and  the  mainland^ 
and  must  be  fifteen  or  twonty  miles  in  length.  Both  shores 
are  mount. linous  and  thiukly  covered  with  the  palmy  growths 
of  the  tKipics.  All  is  confusion  on  board,  and  I  also  must 
prepare  lo  set  foot  on  the  land  of  Brahma,  Vishnu  uid  Sbiva 


CHAPTER  II. 

IMPRESSIONS    OP    BOMBAY. 

A  Foretaste  of  India— Entering  Bombay  Harbor— I  Eeach  the  Shore— My  First  Eide 
In  &  Palanquin— Mr.  Pallanjees  Hotel— Appearance  of  Bombay— Its  Situation — The 
First  Indian  Eailroad— English  Hospitality— American  Consuls  and  Eesidents— The 
Parsees — Sir  Jamsetjee  Jeejeebhoy— His  Family  and  Eesidence — Parsee  Faith  and 
Ceremonies— Bridal  Processions — A  Drive  to  Malabar  Hill — Tropical  Gardens — Tax 
<m  Palm-Trees— A  Hindoo  Temple— The  Jeejeebboy  Hospital— Dr.  Bhawoo  Dajee. 

Before  reaching  Bombay,  I  had  a  slight  foreshadowing  of 
Indian  life.  The  servants  on  the  steamer  being  all  Indians, 
and  the  passengers  mostly  belonging  to  the  East  India  service, 
many  peculiarities  of  every-day  life  were  already  familiar  to 
me.  I  had  mastered  the  mysteries  of  curry;  I  learned  to 
say  "  tiffin "  instead  of  "  lunch ;  "   I  became  accustomed  to 

eing  addressed  as  "  sahib,"  and  even  ventured  so  far  into 
Hindustani,  as  to  call  out  boldly  at  table  :  "pani  do  ' "  (give 

e  water)  or :  "  saf  hasan  lao  !  "  (bring  a  clean  plate).  Thug 
the  first  bloom  of  the  new  land  was  lost  to  me — all  those 
nameless  slight  peculiarities  which  surround  you  with  an  en- 
chanted circle  when  you  first  plunge  yourself  into  another 
climate  and  another  race.      Nevertheless,  there  was  enougb 


GOING    ASHORE.  38 

left  to  make  my  landing  on  Indian  soil  a  circumstance  of  no 
ordinary  character. 

We  came  slowly  up  the  splendid  bay,  until  within  half  a 
mile  of  the  town.  The  shores  being  low,  nothing  but  aw  array 
of  brown  tiled  roofs,  and  a  small  Gothic  spire,  was  visibk 
behind  the  crowd  of  vessels  at  anchor.  On  the  other  hand, 
however,  the  islands  of  Eiephanta  and  Panwell,  and  the  raogea 
of  the  Mahratta  Ghauts,  were  gorgeously  lighted  up  by  the 
evening  sun.  But  little  time  was  allowed  for  admiring  them ; 
the  anchor  dropped,  and  a  fleet  of  boats,  conveyicg  anxious 
friends  and  relatives,  gathered  about  us.  The  deck  wag 
covered  with  pyramids  of  baggage,  all  was  noise  and  confusion, 
here  shouts  of  joy  and  there  weeping,  here  meeting  and  there 
parting,  many  scenes  of  the  drama  of  life  enacted  at  the  same 
moment.  Finding  myself  left  wholly  to  my  own  re&ources,  I 
set  about  extricating  myself  from  the  bewilderment,  and  ac- 
cepting the  first  native  who  addressed  me,  I  embarked  for  the 
shore  before  the  other  passengers  had  thought  of  leaving. 
"  Rupees,"  said  the  master  of  the  boat,  holding  up  three  of 
his  fingers.  "  ^A;,"  (one)  I  answered.  Up  went  two  fingers. 
''  j&A;,"  again ;  and  so  I  went  ashore  for  one.  We  came  to  a 
Btone  pier,  with  a  long  flight  of  steps  leading  down  to  the 
water.  The  top  of  it  was  thronged  with  natives  in  white 
dresses  and  red  turbans.  Among  them  were  the  runners  of 
the  hotels,  and  I  soon  found  the  one  I  wanted.  At  a  small 
customs  office  on  the  pier,  my  baggage  was  passed  unexamined, 
on  my  declaring  that  I  had  but  two  pounds  of  Turkish  to- 
bacco. A  line  of  cabs,  buggies  and  palanquins  with  theii 
bearers  was  drawn  up  on  the  pier,  and  in  order  to  be  as  Indiai 
«8  possible,  I  took  one  of  the  latter. 


36  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAP  A*. 

It  was  not  a  pleasant  sensation  to  lie  at  full  length  in  a 
cnshioned  box,  and  impose  one's  whole  weight  (and  I  am  by 
no  means  a  feather)  upon  the  shoulders  of  four  men.  Ii  is  a 
conveyance  invented  by  Despotism,  when  men's  necks  w^re 
footstools^  and  men's  heads  playthings.  I  have  never  yet 
been  able  to  get  into  it  without  a  feeling  of  reluctance,  as  if  I 
were  inflicting  an  injury  on  my  bearers.  Why  should  they 
groan  and  stagger  under  my  weight,  when  I  have  legs  of  my 
own  ? — and  yet,  I  warrant  you,  nothing  would  please  them 
less  than  for  me  to  use  those  legs.  They  wear  pads  on  the 
shoulders,  on  which  rests  the  pole  to  which  the  palanquin  is 
suspended,  and  go  forward  at  a  slow,  sliding  trot,  scarcely 
bending  their  knees  or  lifting  their  feet  from  the  ground. 
The  motion  is  agreeable,  yet  as  you  are  obliged  to  lie  on  your 
back,  you  have  a  very  imperfect  view  of  the  objects  you  pass. 
You  can  travel  from  one  end  of  India  to  another  in  this  style, 
but  it  is  an  expensive  and  unsatisfactory  conveyance,  and  I 
made  as  little  use  of  it  as  possible,  in  my  subsequent  journeys. 

As  I  was  borne  along,  I  saw,  through  the  corners  of  my 
eyes,  that  we  passed  over  a  moat  and  through  a  heavy  stone 
gateway.  I  then  saw  the  bottoms  of  a  row  of  fluted  Grecian 
pillars — a  church,  as  I  afterwards  found — then  shops,  very 
much  in  the  European  style,  except  that  turbaned  Hindoos 
and  mitred  Parsees  stood  in  the  doors,  and  finally  my  bearers 
came  to  a  halt  in  a  wooden  verandah,  where  I  was  received  by 
Mr.  Pallanjee,  the  host  of  the  British  Hotel.  I  was  ushered 
up  lofty  flights  of  wooden  steps  to  the  third  story  and  in* 
stalled  in  a  small  room,  overlooking  a  wide  prospect  of  tiled 
roofs,  graced  here  and  there  with  a  cocoa-nut  or  brab  palia 
The  partitions  to  the  rooms  did   not  reach  the  ceiling;  there 


4.PPEARANCE    Oh     BOMBAY.  37 

^ei*e  nc  glass  windows,  but  merely  blinds,  and  every  breeze 
that  came,  swept  through  the  whole  house.  The  servants  were 
mostly  Portuguese,  from  Goa,  but  as  India  is  especially  the 
country  of  servant  and  master,  every  person  is  expected  to 
have  one  for  his  own  use.  I  chose  a  tall  Hindoo,  with  one  red 
streak  and  two  white  ones  (the  signs  of  caste)  on  his  forehead, 
who,  for  half  a  rupee  daily,  performed  the  duties  of  guide, 
interpreter,  messenger  and  valet  de  chambre.  Nothing  can 
exceed  the  respect  shown  to  Europeans  by  the  native  ser- 
vants. They  go  far  beyond  the  Arab  and  Turkish  domestics 
of  the  East,  or  even  the  slaves  in  Egypt.  No  Russian  serf 
could  have  a  greater  reverence  for  his  lord.  As  a  natural 
consequence  of  this,  they  are  noted  for  their  fidelity;  the 
ayahs,  or  nurses,  are  said  to  be  the  best  in  the  world. 

Bombay,  as  a  city,  presents  few  points  of  interest  to  a 
traveller.  It  is  wholly  of  modern  growth,  and  more  than 
half  European  in  its  appearance.  It  is  divided  into  two  parts 
— the  Fort,  as  it  is  called,  being  enclosed  within  the  old  Por- 
tuguese fortifications  and  surrounded  by  a  moat.  It  is  about 
a  mile  in  length,  extending  along  the  shore  of  the  bay. 
Outside  of  the  moat  is  a  broad  esplanade,  beyond  which,  on 
the  northern  side,  a  new  city  has  grown  up.  The  fortifica- 
tions are  useless  as  a  means  of  defence,  the  water  of  the  moat 
breeds  mosquitos  and  fevers,  and  I  do  not  understand  why 
the  walls  should  not  have  been  levelled,  long  since.  The  city 
within  the  Fort  is  crowded  to  excess.  Many  of  the  streets 
are  narrow,  dark  and  dirty,  and  as  the  houses  are  frequently  of 
wood,  the  place  is  exposed  to  danger  from  fire.  The  popula- 
tion and  trade  of  Bombay  have  increased  so  much  within  the 
last  few  years,  that  this  keeping  up  of  old  defences  is  a  great 


38 


rm^IA.    PHIVA.     AND    JAPAN 


inconvenience  So  t'ai  arc  tl'c  old  practices  preserved,  that  ai 
one  particular  gate,  where  there  was  a  powder  magazine  twenty 
years  ago,  no  person  is  "permitted  to  smoke.  Southward  of 
the  Fort  is  a  tongue  of  land — formerly  the  island  of  Colaba 
but  now  connected  by  a  causeway — on  which  stands  the  light 
house.  To  the  north-west,  beyond  the  city,  rises  Malabar 
Hill,  a  long^  low  height,  looking  upon  the  open  ocean,  and 
<  ompletely  covered  with  the  gardens  and  country-houses  of 
the  native  and  European  merchants. 

The  mainland  is  distant  from  Bombay  about  fifteen  mile?, 
across  the  bay.  Steamers  run  daily  to  Panwell,  whence  there 
is  a  mail-coach  to  Poonah,  the  old  Mahratta  capital,  about 
seventy  miles  distant.  Northward  of  the  Island  of  Bombay, 
lies  the  large  Island  of  Salsette,  which  is  connected  with  it  by 
two  causeways,  and  Salsette  has  lately  been  united  to  the 
mainland  by  a  bridge,  the  strait,  at  the  northern  point  of  the 
island,  being  less  than  half  a  mile  wide.  This  bridge  was 
built  by  the  Railroad  Company,  who  have  already  finished 
thirty-five  miles  of  the  great  road  which  is  to  connect  Bom- 
bay and  Calcutta.  The  rails  were  laid  as  far  as  Tanna  at  the 
lime  of  my  visit,  and  the  trains  commenced  running  shortly 
afterwards.  The  engineers  were  occupied  in  locating  that 
part  of  the  line  which  crosses  the  Grhauts,  and  which  is  the  most 
difficult  and  expensive  portion  of  the  road.  The  East  India 
Company  guarantees  5  per  cent,  annually  on  the  stock,  for  the 
period  of  twenty  years,  owing  to  which  encouragement,  (with 
out  which,  indeed,  the  undertaking  were  impossible,)  sharei 
were  at  a  premium. 

During  my  brief  stay  in  Bombay,  I  made  some  acquaint 
ances  among  the  English  residents,  to  wliom  T  wa;^  indebted 


AMERICAN    CONSULS    AND    RESIDENTS.  39 

for  much  cordial  hospitality.  The  English  in  IndiS,  are  said 
to  be  the  most  hospitable  people  in  the  world,  even  to  those 
who  bring  no  letters  of  introduction.  The  kindness  of  mj 
friends,  and  especially  of  Capt.  R.  Baird  Smith,  of  the 
Bengal  Engineers,  supplied  me  with  letters  for  all  the  principal 
towns  in  the  interior,  so  that  I  had  double  assurance  of  a 
friendly  reception.  There  were  no  American  merchants  in 
Bombay  at  the  time,  nor  even  a  Consul.  Appointments  had 
been  made,  and  Consuls  had  gone  out,  but  none  of  then- 
found  the  profits  of  the  office  equal  to  its  expenses.  The  last 
one  had  appointed  Mr.  Dossabhoy  Merwanjee,  one  of  the 
principal  Parsee  merchants,  his  agent,  but  the  latter  had  no 
authority  to  act  in  a  Consular  capacity.  The  house  of  Dos- 
sabhoy Merwanjee  &  Co.,  however,  is  actively  engaged  in 
American  trade,  most  of  the  vessels  which  come  out  from  our 
ports  being  consigned  to  it.  I  was  indebted  to  the  members  of 
the  firm  for  much  kindness.  The  only  American  reiidonts  were 
some  missionaries,  who  have  established  a  school  'xnd  church, 
and  a  Boston  ice  merchant,  who  was  a  man  of  3ome  impor- 
tance in  such  a  climate.  The  ice  was  preserved  in  a  large 
stone  rotunda,  and  sold  at  the  rate  of  four  annas  (J 2  cents) 
the  pound.  The  consumption  is  increasing,  much  use  of  it 
being  now  made  by  the  physicians,  and  with  the  best  effect. 

My  good  fortune  in  making  the  acquaintance  of  Dossabhoy 
Merwanjee,  and  other  members  of  the  celebrated  Lowjee 
Family,  to  which  he  belongs,  gave  me  some  insight  into  native 
society  here — an  imperfect  experience,  it  is  true,  but  enough 
to  satisfy  me  that  in  few  of  the  English  works  on  India 
which  I  have  read,  has  justice  been  done  to  the  character  of 
the  native  population.     The  Parsees,  especially,  form  a  com- 


40  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAfAA. 

munity  distinguished  for  its  intelligence,  enterprise  and  public 
spirit.  It  would  be  no  exaggeration  to  say  that  more  thau 
half  the  wealth  of  Bombay  is  in  the  hands  of  this  class.  Sir 
Jamsetjee  Jeejeebhoy,  the  Parsee  knight,  presents  one  of  the 
most  striking  examples  of  commercial  success  to  be  found  in 
the  history  of  any  country.  This  gentleman,  whose  splendid 
benevolence  has  imperishably  connected  his  name  with  his 
native  city,  was  the  architect  of  his  own  fortune.  By  pru- 
dence, economy  and  intelligence  he  rose  from  one  success  to 
another,  till  at  present  his  fortune  is  estimated  at  three  crores 
of  rupees  ($15,000,000.)  He  has  given  away  in  charities  of 
various  kinds  upwards  of  $2,000,000,  and  scarcely  a  day 
passes  without  recording  some  further  evidence  of  his  gene- 
rosity. Among  other  works  which  owe  their  existence  to 
him — and  for  which  he  was  knighted  by  the  Queen,  being  the 
first  native  who  ever  received  that  distinction — are  the 
Hospital  which  bears  his  name,  the  Causeway  from  Bombay 
Island  to  Salsette  (called  Lady  Jamsetjee's  Causeway),  and 
the  Aqueduct  for  supplying  the  city  of  Poonah  with  water. 
I  had  a  glimpse  of  him  one  evening,  as  his  carriage  passed  me 
in  the  street :  he  was  then  verging  upon  his  eightieth  year, 
and  very  infirm.  His  eldest  son,  Cursetjee,  inherits  his  en- 
terprise and  boldness,  and  possesses  a  large  fortune  of  his  own 
making.  Another  of  his  sons  has  distinguished  himself  as 
a  Persian  scholar,  and  has  published  a  work  on  the  Era  of 
Zoroaster. 

Dr.  Bhawoo  Dajee,  a  distinguished  Hindoo  physician 
kindly  accompanied  me  to  Sir  Jamsetjee's  town  residence,  a 
large  and  elegant  mansion  within  the  fort.  The  old  gentle- 
man was  absent,  but  we  were  received  by  his  son  Sorabiee 


FAITH  AND  CUSTOMS  OF  THE  PARS££B.  41 

who  inquired  after  Mr  Charles  Norton,  of  Cambridge,  and 
showed  me  a  North  American  Review ,  containing  Mr  N.'f 
biography  of  Sir  Jamsetjee.  The  residence  is  very  elegantly 
furnished,  in  a  style  combining  European  comfort  with  Oriental 
display.  Portraits  of  the  different  members  of  the  family  occu- 
pied the  walls,  and  in  the  centre  of  the  principal  saloon  stood  8 
splendid  testimonial,  in  wrought  silver,  three  feet  high,  pre- 
sented to  Sir  Jamsetjee  by  three  of  the  Bombay  merchants. 

The  Parsees  settled  on  the  Malabar  Coast  about  eight 
centuries  ago,  after  their  expulsion  from  Persia.  They  are 
as  is  well  known,  followers  of  Zoroaster,  recognizing  one 
Grood  and  one  Evil  Principle,  who  contend  for  the  mastery  of 
the  Universe.  They  worship  the  sun,  as  the  representative 
of  God,  fire  in  all  its  forms,  and  the  sea.  Their  temples  con- 
tain no  images,  but  only  the  sacred  fire,  and  though  they  have 
fixed  days  for  the  performance  of  various  rites,  they  repeat 
their  prayers  every  morning,  soon  after  sunrise.  The  dead 
are  neither  buried  nor  burned,  but  exposed  to  the  air  within 
a  walled  enclosure,  on  the  summit  of  a  hill.  The  bodies  of 
the  rich  are  protected  by  a  wire  screen,  until  wasted  away,  but 
those  of  the  poor  are  soon  devoured  by  birds  of  prey.  The 
children  are  generally  married  at  from  two  to  five  years  of 
age,  and  brought  up  together,  until  of  a  proper  age  to  assume 
the  duties  of  married  life.  Most  of  the  marriages  are  cele- 
brated in  the  winter  season,  and  the  streets  continually  re- 
sounded with  the  music  of  the  bridal  processions.  First  came 
a  string  of  palanquins  and  carriages,  filled  with  children  of 
both  sexes — and  very  feeautiful  are  the  Parsee  children — clad 
in  silk  bespangled  with  gold,  and  with  pearl  and  emerald 
ornaments  in  their  ears.     Then  a  band  of  native  musicians, 


•2  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

generally  playing  "  Lucy  Long,"  or  "  Carry  me  back."  &c. 
after  them  the  bridal  dowry,  covered  with  massive  extinguish 
era  of  silver,  and  the  procession  was  always  closed  by  a  con 
course  of  women,  whose  loose  floating  mantles  of  scarlet 
crimson,  orange,  yellow  and  purple  silk,  gleamed  in  the  sun, 

"  Like  tulip  beds,  ot  different  shape  and  dyes, 
Bending  beneath  the  invisible  west- wind's  sighs." 

My  friend  Cursetjee  Merwanjee,  accompanied  me  one 
afternoon  in  a  drive  around  the  environs  of  Bombay.  Aftei 
passing  the  esplanade,  which  is  thickly  dotted  with  the  tents 
of  the  military  and  the  bamboo  cottages  of  the  officers,  we 
entered  the  outer  town,  inhabited  entirely  by  the  natives- 
The  houses  are  two  or  three  stories  in  height,  with  open  wood- 
en verandahs  in  front,  many  of  which  have  a  dark,  mellow  old 
look,  from  the  curiously  carved  posts  and  railings  of  black 
wood  which  adorn  them.  Mixed  with  the  houses  are  groups 
of  the  beautiful  cocoa-palm,  which  rise  above  the  roofs  and 
hang  their  feathery  crowns  over  the  crowded  highway.  Out- 
side of  the  town  hall  is  shade  and  the  splendor  of  tropical 
bloom.  The  roads  are  admirable,  and  we  rolled  smoothly 
along  in  the  cool  twilight  of  embowered  cocoa,  brab  and  date 
palms,  between  whose  pillared  trunks  the  afternoon  sun  poured 
streams  of  broad  golden  light.  The  crimson  sagittaria 
flaunted  its  flame-like  leaves  on  the  terraces;  a  variety  of 
the  acacia  hung  thick  with  milky,  pendulous  blossoms,  and 
every  gateway  disclosed  an  avenue  of  urns  leading  up  to  the 
verandah  of  some  suburban  palace,  all  overladen  with  gor- 
geous southern  flowers.  We  rode  thus  for  miles  around  and 
over  Malabar  HiU,  and  along  the  shores  of  the  Indian  Ocean. 


TAX    ON    PALM-TRKE8.  43 

antil  the  hills  of  Salsette,  empurpled  by  the  sunset,  shone  in 
the  distance  like  the  mountains  of  fairy  land. 

I  had  thought  the  Government  of  Egypt  despotic,  foi 
taxing  the  poor  Nubias  a  piastre  and  a-half  (7^  cents)  an- 
nually for  each  of  their  date-trees,  but  the  East  India  Com- 
pany exacts  from  one  to  three  rupees  (50  cents  to  $1.50)  on 
each  tree  according  to  its  quality.  As  the  principal  produce 
of  the  trees  is  tari^  a  kind  of  palm  wine,  used  only  by  the 
natives,  such  a  tax  appeared  enormous,  and  gave  color  to  what 
I  had  already  heard,  that  the  resources  of  the  country  are 
mercilessly  drained  by  the  Company,  for  the  purpose  of  car- 
rying out  its  expensive  system  of  annexation,  and  at  the  same 
time  paying  the  regular  yearly  dividend  to  the  stockholders. 
However,  I  had  determined,  on  entering  India,  to  clear  my 
mind  of  all  preconceived  opinions,  and  to  judge  of  the  effects 
of  British  rule  as  impartially  as  possible.  I  shall  therefore 
draw  no  conclusion  at  present  from  this  single  instance  of 
oppression. 

In  the  course  of  our  excursion  we  visited  a  Hindoo  Tern 
pie  on  the  western  shore  of  the  island.  It  is  dedicated  to  the 
five  principal  divinities,  each  of  whom  has  his  separate  shrine. 
We  were  not  permitted  to  go  further  than  the  doors,  but  the 
attendants  removed  the  hangings  and  showed  us  the  figures  of 
the  gods.  Their  names  were  in  the  Mahratta  language,  and  I 
do  not  remember  the  Sanscrit  appellation  of  any  except  Maha- 
deo.  The  temple  occupied  the  summit  of  a  small  hill,  ana 
was  approached  by  ghauts,  or  flights  of  steps,  of  hewn  stone 
Near  it  there  was  a  much  older  shrine,  with  an  image  in  a 
dark  recess.  A  tiger,  rudely  sculptured,  sat  in  the  outei 
norch,  facing  it      Several  bells  hung  from  the  roof,  and  each 


|4  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

of  the  natives  who  accompanied  us  rang  one  of  these,  both  on 
passing  in,  and  out. 

Dr.  Bhawoo  Dajee  took  me  to  visit  the  Jamsetjee  Jee 
jeebhoy  Hospital,  the  name  of  which  declares  its  founder.  1\ 
IS  a  one-story  stone  building,  in  the  Gothic  style,  and  divided 
into  a  number  of  wards,  where  the  destitute  Christian,  Jewish, 
Hindoo,  Parsee,  or  Mahometan  invalid  is  taken  in  and  well 
cared  for.  There  were  about  three  hundred  patients  at  the 
time  of  my  visit.  The  hospital  is  very  clean,  kept  in  excel- 
lent order,  and  the  patients  appeared  to  be  enjoying  as  much 
comfort  as  was  possible,  in  their  condition.  Opposite  the 
hospital  is  the  Grant  Medical  College,  an  excellent  institution, 
which  was  then  attended  by  about  thirty  native  students. 
Bhawoo  Dajee  himself  is  a  graduate  of  this  College,  where 
he  received  the  gold  medal,  and  was  besides  awarded  a  prize 
of  six  hundred  rupees  for  an  essay  on  Infanticide.  As  a  phy- 
sician and  surgeon  he  is  among  the  first  of  his  class  in  Bom- 
bay, and  in  tnat  refinement  and  liberality  which  distinguishes 
the  gentleman  and  the  scholar,  he  would  be  a  noted  man  any 
where.  I  esteem  it  a  particular  good  fortune  which  brought 
me  to  his  acquaintance. 


CHAPTER    III. 

T  H  B     C  A  V  E-T  EMPLES     OF     ELEPHANTA. 

Hindoo  and  Egyptian  Antiquities— The  Hindoo  Faith— The  Trinity— A  Trip  to  Ele- 
phanta— Scenery  of  the  Bay— Landing  on  the  Island— Front  View  of  ihe  Cave- 
Tempi  e—Portugu?se  Vandalism— The  Colossal  Trinity— The  Head  of  Brahms- 
Vishnu— Shiva— Remarkable  Individuality  of  the  Heads— The  Guardians  of  the 
Bhrine— The  Columns  of  Elephanta— Their  Type  in  Nature— Intrinsic  Dignity  of  aU 
Religions— Respect  for  the  Ancient  Faiths— The  Smaller  Chambers  of  the  Temple— 
The  Shrine  of  the  Sterile— Tamarind  Trees— Smaller  Cave-Temples— Return  to 
Bombay  Island — Sunset  in  the  Botanic  Garden. 

While  in  Bombay,  I  took  a  step  further  back  into  the  past, 
than  ever  in  all  my  previous  experience.  In  Egypt,  you  are 
brought  face  to  face  with  periods  so  remote,  that  they  lie  more 
than  half  within  the  realm  of  Fable ;  yet  there  the  groping 
antiquarian  has  pierced  the  mystery,  and  leads  you  down  from 
dynasty  to  dynasty,  on  the  crumbling  steps  of  hieroglyphic 
lore.  But  in  India, — the  cradle,  as  many  believe,  of  the 
Human  Race — we  have  no  such  helps,  and  while  we  gaze 
upon  the  tokens  of  a  faith  which  was  no  doubt,  pre-existent 
to  that  of  the  Pharaohs,  science  sits  down  baffled  and  leavea 
as  to  Wiinder  in  the  dark.  No  Wilkinson  or  Champollion 
writes  on  the  altars  of  the  gods :  "  B.  C—  so  and  so  much." 
Ths  whole  backward  vista  of  Time  is  thrown  open,  and  we  are 


46  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND   JAPAN. 

free  to  retrace  the  ages,  even  to  the  days  when  there  wer« 
giants.  I  no  longer  marvel  at  any  of  the  ancient  faiths;  I 
only  wonder  that  those  vast,  strange  and  gorgeous  systems  of 
mythology  ever  should  have  disappeared  from  the  religions  of 
the  world,  while  such  types  of  them  remain  in  existence. 

The  Hindoo  faith,  in  its  original  and  pure  form,  was  s 
consistent  monotheism,  and  no  doubt  is  still  so  understood  bj 
the  more  intellectual  of  its  professors.  The  parent  Deity 
Brehm,  was  an  invisible  and  Omnipotent  God,  the  maker  of 
Heaven  and  Earth,  and  like  the  Divinity  of  the  Buddhists. 
too  great  for  mortal  comprehension.  The  three  deities  wh£ 
sprang  from  him  may  be  regarded  rather  as  personificationE 
of  his  attributes  than  as  distinct  personalities.  These  deities, 
who  form  the  Trimurti,  or  Hindoo  Trinity,  are  Brahma,  the 
Creator,  Vishnu,  the  Preserver,  and  Shiva,  the  Destroyer. 
Among  the  emblems  of  the  latter  is  a  new-born  infant,  show- 
ing that  Life  is  continually  reproduced  from  Death.  From 
these  three  spring  a  host  of  inferior  deities,  who,  with  their 
progeny,  amount  to  the  number  of  thirty-three  millions,  of 
whom  three  millions  are  evil,  and  the  remainder  good.  Here 
the  pieponderance  of  Good  over  Evil  in  the  government  of  the 
world,  and  consequently  the  beneficence  of  the  ruling  Deity, 
is  strikingly  acknowledged.  The  original  faith  has  greatly 
degenerated,  as  all  the  old  religions  have,  and  among  the 
ignorant  millions  exists  only  in  the  most  extraordinary  super- 
stitions and  the  grossest  forms  of  idolatry;  but  no  one  can 
deny  the  simple  grandeur  of  its  first  conception. 

However,  as  I  am  a  traveller,  and  not  a  theologian,  let  me 
return  to  the  subject,  which  is  my  visit  to  the  Cave-temples 
of  Elcphanta.     These  celebrated  remains  are  upon  the  Island 


8CENERV    OF    THE    BAY.  47 

»f  Elephanta,  in  the  bay,  and  about  seven  miles  distant  from 
Bombay.  I  was  accompanied  by  the  captain  of  an  . American 
bark.  We  engaged  a  bunder-boat,  a  craft  witli  a  small  cabin, 
Bomething  like  the  kangia  of  the  Nile,  embarked  at  the 
Apollo  pier,  and  went  up  the  bay  with  the  flood  tide.  We 
passed  the  fort  and  floated  along  the  shore  as  far  as  Mazagaun, 
where  the  wind  favored  us  for  a  run  out  to  the  island.  The 
Bcenery  of  the  bay  is  beautiful,  the  diff'erent  islands  rising 
from  the  water  in  bold  hills  covered  with  vegetation,  while  the 
peaks  of  the  Malabar  Ghauts  cut  their  sharp  outlines  against 
the  sky,  on  the  opposite  side.  Butcher's  Island,  which  lies 
between  Bombay  and  Elephanta,  is  comparatively  low  and  flat, 
and  has  a  barren  appearance,  but  it  contains  a  number  of 
European  bungalows,  and  seems  to  be  a  favorite  place  of  resi- 
dence. Elephanta,  on  the  contrary,  which  is  about  a  mile  in 
length,  is  lofty,  and  covered  with  palm  and  tamarind  trees. 
Its  form  is  very  beautiful,  the  summit  being  divided  into  two 
peaks  of  unequal  height. 

The  water  is  shallow  on  the  western  side,  and  as  we  ap- 
proached several  natives  appeared  on  the  beach,  who  waded 
out  two  by  two,  and  carried  us  ashore  on  their  shoulders.  A 
well-worn  foot-path  pointed  out  the  way  up  the  hill,  and  in  a 
few  minutes  we  stood  on  the  little  terrace  between  the  two 
peaks,  and  in  front  of  the  temple.  The  house  of  the  sergeant 
who  keeps  guard  over  it  still  intervened  between  us  and  the 
entrance,  and  before  passing  it  I  stood  for  some  time  looking 
icross  to  Bombay  and  Salsette,  enchanted  with  the  beauty  of 
the  prospect  before  me.  More  than  half  the  charm,  I  found, 
lay  in  the  rich,  tropical  foliage  of  the  foreground. 

Turning,  I  passed  around  the  screen  of  some  baaana  treet 


48  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

and  under  the  boughs  of  a  large  tamarind.  The  original 
entrace  to  the  temple  is  destroyed,  so  that  it  is  impossible  to 
tell  whether  there  was  a  solid  front  and  doorway,  as  in  the 
Egyptian  rock-temples,  or  whether  the  whole  interior  stood 
open  as  now.  The  front  view  of  Elephanta  is  very  picturesque. 
The  rock  is  draped  with  luxuriant  foliage  and  wild  vines, 
brilliant  with  many-colored  blossoms,  heightening  the  myste 
rious  gloom  of  the  pillared  hall  below,  at  the  farthest  ex 
fcremity  of  which  the  eye  dimly  discerns  the  colossal  outlines 
of  the  tri-formed  god  of  the  temple.  The  chambers  on  each 
side  of  the  grand  hall  are  open  to  the  day,  so  that  all  its 
sculptures  can  be  examined  without  the  aid  of  torches.  The 
rows  of  rock-hewn  pillars  which  support  the  roof,  are  sur- 
jiounted  by  heavy  architraves,  from  which  hang  the  capitals 
and  shattered  fragments  of  some  whose  bases  have  been 
entirely  broken  away.  The  Portuguese,  in  their  zeal  for  de- 
stroying heathen  idols,  planted  cannon  before  the  entrance  of 
the  cave,  and  destroyed  many  of  the  columns  and  sculptured 
panels,  but  the  faces  of  the  colossal  Trinity  have  escaped 
mutilation. 

This,  the  Trimurtij  is  a  grand  and  imposing  piece  of 
sculpture,  not  unworthy  of  the  best  period  of  Egyptian  art. 
[t  reminded  me  of  the  colossal  figures  at  AbooSimbel,  though 
#ith  less  of  serene  grace  and  beauty.  It  is  a  triple  bust,  and 
with  the  richly-adorned  mitres  that  crown  the  heads,  rises  to 
fche  height  of  twelve  feet.  The  central  head,  which  fronts 
the  entrance,  is  that  of  Brahma,  the  Creator,  whose  large 
calm  features,  are  settled  in  the  repose  of  conscious  power  m 
if  creation  were  to  him  merely  an  action  of  the  will,  and  not 
an  eflFort      On  his  right  hand  is  Vishnu,  the  Preserver,  re 


THE    COLOSSAL    TRINITY.  49 

presented  in  profile.  His  features  are  soft  and  femifiinei  full 
of  mildness  and  benignity,  and  are  almost  Grecian  in  theii 
outlines,  except  the  under  lip,  which  is  remarkably  thick  and 
full.  The  hair  falls  in  ordered  ringlets  from  under  a  cap 
something  between  a  helmet  and  a  mitre.  The  right  arm 
which  is  much  mutilated,  is  lifted  to  the  shoulder,  and  from 
the  half-closed  hand  droops  a  lotus-blossom.  The  third  mem- 
ber of  the  Trinity,  the  terrible  Shiva,  the  Destroyer,  is  on  the 
left  of  Brahma,  and,  like  Vishnu,  his  head  is  turned  so  as  tc 
present  the  profile.  His  features  are  totally  different  fron 
the  other  two.  His  forehead  is  stern,  ridged  at  the  eyebrows 
his  nose  strongly  aquiline,  and  his  lips  slightly  parted,  so  a» 
to  show  his  teeth  set,  with  an  expression  of  fierce  cruelty  ano 
malignity.  A  cobra  twists  around  his  arm  and  hand,  which 
grasps  the  snake  by  the  neck  and  holds  it  on  high,  with  hood 
expanded,  ready  to  strike  the  deadly  blow. 

Nothing  astonished  me  more,  in  this  remarkable  group,  that 
the  distinct  individuality  of  each  head.  With  the  exception 
of  the  thick  under  lip,  which  is  common  to  all  three,  the 
faces  are  those  of  diff'erent  races.  Brahma  approaches  the 
Egyptian  and  Vishnu  the  Grecian  type,  while  Shiva  is  not 
unlike  the  Mephistopheles  of  the  modern  German  schooL 
The  group  stands  in  an  excavated  recess,  or  shrine,  at  the 
entrance  of  which,  on  each  side,  are  two  colossal  statues. 
They  are  more  rudely  executed,  and  the  faces  exhibit  a  grosser 
type,  the  nose  being  broad  and  slightly  flattened,  and  the  lips 
thick  and  projecting.  The  hand  holds  the  lotus-flower,  and 
the  eyes  are  closed,  but  the  expression  of  the  face  is  that  of 
liappy  reverie  rather  than  sleep.  Had  the  temple  been  Budd- 
hist, I  should  have  said  that  they  were  meditating  their  final 

3 


50  INDIA,    CHINA.    AND    JAPAN. 

beatific  absorption  into  the  Divine  Essence.  The  jame  figures 
are  seen  in  other  parts  of  the  temple,  and  their  aspect 
perfectly  harmonizes  with  the  symbols  introduced  into  tK« 
piirely  ornamental  parts  of  its  architecture. 

This  reminds  me  of  the  columns  supporting  the  roof, 
which  were  unlike  any  others  I  had  seen.  The  lower  part  ifl 
square,  resting  on  a  plinth,  but  at  about  half  the  height  it 
becomes  circular  and  fluted — or  rather  filleted,  the  compart- 
ments having  a  plane  and  not  a  concave  surface.  The  capital 
is  a  flattened  sphere,  of  nearly  double  the  diameter  of  the 
dhaft,  having  a  narrow  disc,  with  fluted  edges,  between  it  and 
the  architrave.  I  knew  these  columns  must  have  some  type 
in  Nature,  and  puzzled  myself  to  find  it.  On  visiting  one  of 
the  smaller  temples  on  the  eastern  side  of  the  island,  the  re- 
semblance flashed  upon  me  at  once — it  was  the  poppy-head. 
The  globular  capital  and  its  low,  fluted  crown,  are  copied 
almost  without  change  from  the  plant,  and  these  two  symbols 
— the  poppy  and  the  lotus — ^with  the  closed  eyelids  and  placid 
faces  of  the  colossal  guardians,  give  the  whole  temple  an  air 
of  mystic  and  enchanted  repose.  One  involuntarily  walks 
through  its  dim  and  hushed  aisles  with  a  softer  step,  and 
speaks,  if  he  must  speak,  in  an  undertone. 

There  is  something  in  every  form  of  religion  worthy  of 
general  respect ;  and  he  who  does  not  feel  this,  can  neither 
auderstand  nor  appreciate  the  Art  which  sprang  from  "he 
ancient  Faiths.  Our  teachers  of  religion  speak  with  sincere 
and  very  just  horror  and  contempt  of  all  forms  of  idolatry, 
yet,  under  pain  of  their  anathemas,  I  dare  assert,  that  he  who 
can  revile  Osiris  and  Amun-Re,  is  unworthy  to  behold  the 
ironders  of  Thebes.     The  Christian  need  not  necessarily  be  ai 


RESPECT    FOR    THE    ANCIENT   FAITHS.  61 

iconoclast:  nay  more,  his  very  faith,  in  its  perfect  charity 
and  its  boundless  love,  obliges  him  to  respect  the  shrines 
where  the  mighty  peoples  of  the  ancient  world  have  bowed 
and  worshipped.  Besides,  there  is  Truth,  however  dim  and 
eclipsed,  behind  all  these  outward  symbols.  Even  the  naked 
and  savage  Dinkas  of  Central  Africa  worship  trees ;  and  so  do 
I.  The  Parsees  worship  the  sun,  as  the  greatest  visible  mani- 
festation of  the  Deity;  and  I  assure  you,  I  have  felt  very 
much  inclined  to  do  the  same,  when  He  and  I  were  alone  in 
the  Desert.  But  let  not  the  reader,  therefore,  or  because  I 
respect  the  feeling  of  worship,  when  expressed  in  other  forma 
than  my  own,  think  me  a  Pagan 

The  walls  of  the  great  hall  of  the  temple  of  Elephanta, 
are  divided  into  tablets,  or  compartments,  each  of  which  con- 
tains, as  a  central  figure,  the  colossal  statue  of  some  god,  sur- 
rounded by  a  host  of  inferior  deities.  Few  of  these  have 
escaped  the  fanatical  fury  of  the  Portuguese,  but  sufficient 
remains  to  show  the  bold  and  masculine  character  of  the  art 
which  produced  them.  The  smaller  figures  are  introduced 
above  and  at  the  sides  of  the  central  god,  and  some  of  the 
tablets  have  a  striking  resemblance  to  pictures  of  the  old 
Italian  masters,  representing  a  saint  surrounded  by  a  cloud 
of  cherubs.  In  the  absence  of  all  inscriptions,  it  is  impos- 
sible to  determine  at  what  time  the  temple  was  excavated. 
The  architecture,  judged  by  its  style  alone,  appears  to  be 
the  antecedent  of  the  Egyptian,  which  would  then  represent  its 
perfect  development,  modified  somewhat  by  being  transplanted 
to  a  diflerent  soil.  But  I  believe  that  most  ethnographers 
ftow  consider  that  the  ancient  Egyptians  and  Hindoos  aw 


52  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

kiiidred  branches  of  one  stock,  whose  seat  is  to  be  looked  foi 
somewhere  in  Central  Asia. 

The  side  chambers  of  the  temple  are  much  smaller,  ana 
the  walls  are  covered  in  the  same  manner,  with  sculptureo 
tablets.     Some  of  the  figures  have  been  recently  smeared  with 
red  paint,  a  sign  that  they  are  still  worshipped  by  some  of 
the   Hindoo  sects.      At  the  foot  of  a  flight  of  steps  which 
leads  to  the   chambers  on  the  left  of  the  grand  hall,  two 
curious  figures  of  dogs  seated  on  their  hind  legs,  which  have 
been  very  lately   excavated,  are  erected   on   pedestals.      Il 
requires  an  experienced  antiquarian  to  tell  whether  they  are 
dogs,  lions,  or  dolphins.     There  are  three  or  four  small  in- 
closed  apartments   resembling   the   adyta   of  the    Egyptian 
temples.     In  the  centre  of  each  is  a  low  pedestal,  or  platform, 
upon  which  stands  a  stone  about  three  feet  high,  with  a  round- 
ed top — the  Lingam,  which  is  one  of  the  most  ancient  as  well 
as  common  of  the  Hindoo  symbols.     One  of  these,  in  parti cu- 
far,  is  still  in  great  repute  among  the  natives,  and  is  resorted 
to  by  the   Hindoo  women,  who  seat  themselves  upon  it  for  a 
certain  length  of  time,  as  a  cure  for  barrenness.     I  was  told 
that  an  English  lady  of  Bombay,  whose  marriage  had  not  had 
the  desired  result,  was  induced  to  try  the  experiment,  which, 
to  her  great  surprise,  w&s  successful. 

After  spending  some  time  in  the  larger  temple,  two  natire 
boys  showed  us  the  way  to  the  two  smaller  ones,  which  are 
nigher  up  the  hill,  on  its  eastern  side.  Other  visitors  haC 
eome  in  the  mean  time,  and  a  company  of  sailors  weie  em- 
ployed in  knocking  down  the  pods  of  the  tamarind  trees. 
The  husk  incloses  a  thick  paste,  wrapped  around  the  seeds, 
with  an  intensely  acid,  but  agreeable  taste.     From  the  gap 


THE    SMALLER    TEMPLES.  68 

between  the  two  peaks  of  the  islands,  we  looked  down  into  a 
Icvely  little  valley  on  the  opposite  side,  gradually  widening  t( 
the  water,  near  which  was  a  native  hamlet.  I  longed  to  pitcl 
my  tent  in  one  of  its  palm-groves,  and  to  spend  a  week  iu 
tudying  the  strange  gods  in  the  caverns  above. 

The  smaller  temples  have  been  much  mutilated.  The 
entrances  are  nearly  filled  up  with  rubbish,  and  the  innei 
chambers  are  now  the  abodes  of  the  jackal  and  the  serpent. 
They  were  too  dark  to  be  properly  seen  without  torches,  which 
we  had  not,  but  I  could  perceive  that  many  of  them  contained 
the  upright  stone,  and  the  usual  sculptured  tablets  on  the 
walls.  The  outer  courts  of  both  were  supported  by  elegant 
poppy-headed  pillars,  a  few  of  which  have  escaped  destruction 
Excavation  would  no  doubt  reveal  much  that  is  now  bidden, 
but  the  Governnment  has  no  taste  for  such  things,  and  there 
are  few  archaeologists  in  Bombay.  The  most  that  has  been 
done  is  to  build  a  cottage  and  station  a  sergeant  at  the  en- 
trance of  the  great  temple,  in  order  to  prevent  visitors  from 
injuring  the  sculptures. 

The  afternoon  shadows  were  growing  long  by  this  time, 
admonishing  us  to  return.  The  wind  had  risen,  and  as  it  was 
not  entirely  favorable,  we  were  obliged  to  run  up  the  bay,  past 
a  point  of  the  Island  of  Salsette,  before  we  could  make  a  tack 
for  the  city.  Instead  of  going  on  to  Bombay,  however,  wu 
landed  at  the  pier  of  Mazagaun,  and  drove  to  the  Botanic 
Garden,  near  the  Governor's  residence,  at  Parell.  The  garden 
is  laid  out  with  great  taste,  and  filled  with  a  variety  of  rare 
tropical  treee,  among  which  are  several  superb  Brazilian  palm» 
[  there  saw  the  first  banyan- tree,  but  the  specimen  was  too 
young   to  justify   its   fame.      The  flaming   blossoms   of  the 


64  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

azalias,  pelargoniums  and  sagittarias  first  deepened  in  hue. 
and  then  grew  dusky  and  indistinct  in  the  fading  flush  of 
sunset,  as  I  wandered  through  the  palmy  alleys,  breathing  ol 
"nard  and  cassia,"  and  the  voluptuous  Persian  rose.  But 
the  short  southern  twilight  sank  away,  and  1  rode  back  to 
Bombay,  with  the  silvery,  meteoric  lustre  of  the  zodiacal 
light  gleaming  over  my  path* 


i 


CffA^PTER  IT 

A  NAUTCH  AMONG  THE  PAE8EES. 

New- Years  Day— A  Tropical  Gift— AParsee  Bungalow— Our  Reception— Chdwinj;  thi 
Betel-Nut  -The  Nautch-Girls— Their  Dances— Supper— Prejudices  of  Oaste— The 
Bengalee  Dance— A  Gilded  Bridegroom— Piercing  Music  -Ship-Building  in  Boaibay 
-Education  of  the  Natives — Their  Appeals  to  Parliament 

The  morning  of  New- Year's  Day,  1853,  dawned  clear  and 
beautiful.  Lord  Falkland,  Governor  of  the  Bombay  Presi 
dency,  gave  a  splendid  ball  at  his  residence  at  Parell,  on  the 
previous  evening.  The  simple  ceremony  of  calling  upon  him 
would  have  insured  me  an  invitation ;  but  as  I  carelessly  neg- 
lected to  do  this,  and  therefore  missed  the  ball,  I  accepted  the 
more  readily  an  invitation  to  attend  a  navtch  at  the  country 
residence  of  my  Parsee  friends,  on  the  following  evening.  A 
servant  came  to  my  room  early  on  New-Year's  morning,  with 
a  tray  heaped  with  fruit,  a  large  bunch  of  roses,  and  a  polite 
note  from  Dossabhoy  Merwanjee  Wadya  and  his  associates, 
containing  the  compliments  of  the  season,  and  an  invitatioD 
to  be  at  Parell  at  half-past  nine  o'clock.  I  could  not  help 
being  struck  with  the  difference  between  New- Year  in  Bom- 
bay and  in  New  York.     While  my  friends  were  making  theii 


56  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

round  of  calls,  muffled  in  furs,  and  witn  red  noses  and  frostj 
hands,  I  was  sitting  on  an  open  verandah,  as  lightly  clad  as 
possible,  looking  down  on  the  palms  and  papayas  in  the  gar 
dens  below,  and  listening  to  the  songs  of  birds  gathered  oe 
all  the  house-tops,  my  New- Year's  gift  consisting  of  a  pum 
melow  (a  fruit  resembling  the  shaddock,  but  of  much  finer 
flavor),  a  pile  of  oranges  and  golden  bananas,  and  a  pawn, 
for  chewing,  wrapped  in  a  gilded  betel-leaf. 

Three  countrymen — all  who  were  in  Bombay,  with  the 
exception  of  the  Missionaries — were  also  invited,  as  well  as 
two  Englishmen,  but  the  remainder  of  the  guests  were  native, 
Parsee  and  Hindoo.  A  pleasant  drive  of  five  miles  brought 
us  to  the  country-house,  which  was  built  on  land  granted  to 
the  family  by  the  East  India  Company,  on  account  of  the 
services  they  have  rendered  as  ship-builders.  It  was  a  spa- 
cious one-story  bungalow,  and  brilliantly  lighted  up  for  the 
occasion  with  hanging  lamps  of  cocoa-nut  oil,  which  gives  out 
a  very  delicate  and  pleasant  perfume  while  burning.  We 
were  ushered  into  a  hall,  around  the  sides  of  which  were 
couches  made  in  imitation  of  sofas,  and  not  so  lazy  and  luxu- 
rious as  the  Turkish  divan.  The  floor  was  carpeted,  and  the 
musicians  and  nautch-girls  were  seated  in  a  group  in  one 
lorner. 

Dossabhoy,  and  our  friends,  Hirjeebhoy,  the  head  builder 
m  the  Bombay  dock-yard,  Jamsetjee  and  Cursetjee,  received 
as  cordially,  and  immediately  on  taking  our  seats,  bunches  of 
fragrant  roses  were  presented  to  us,  over  which  fresh  rose-water 
was  sprinkled  from  a  silver  vase.  Another  servant  then  appeared 
with  a  tray  oi pawns,  which  the  Parsees  were  already  chewing 
rigor  lusly.      Indeed,  you  rarely  see  a  native,  of  whateve? 


CHEWING    THE    BETEL-NUT.  5? 

condition,  without  a  pawn  Id  his  mouth.  They  are  composed 
of  chips  of  betel-nut,  cardamum  seeds  and  betel-leaf,  to  which 
8ome  add  lime  made  from  mussel-shells.  In  order  to  be  like 
he  rest,  I  commenced  chewing,  and  found  the  taste  very  much 
ike  sassafras,  but  more  astringent.  It  is  by  no  means  dis« 
agreeable,  and  must  be  rather  conducive  to  health  than  other 
wise,  or  it  would  not  have  become  a  universal  custom.  Both 
the  leaf  and  nut  are  excellent  tonics.*  The  juice  only  is  swal- 
lowed, but  the  practice  of  chewing  makes  both  the  mouth  and 
teeth,  for  the  time,  of  a  bright  red  color.  I  was  quite  shocked 
on  landing,  to  see  so  many  natives  (as  I  thought)  spitting 
blood. 

In  a  short  time  the  musicians  had  finished  tuning  their 
instruments,  and  the  two  nautch-girls  (bayaderes)  took  theii 
places  on  the  floor.  The  word  bayadere  is  a  French  invention 
and  is  unknown  in  India.  These  girls  were  about  tweny-five 
years  of  age,  small  in  stature,  dark-brown  in  complexion,  plain 
in  features,  and  inert  and  languid  in  expression.  They  were 
far  from  being  as  handsome  or  graceful  as  the  Almchs  who 
danced  for  us  in  the  temple  of  Luxor.  They  wore  full  robes 
of  a  gay  color,  descending  nearly  to  the  ancle,  but  confined  by 
a  broad  shawl  so  far  below  their  hips  as  to  restrict  the  motion 


*  Prof.  Johnston  says :  "  On  those  who  are  accustomed  to  use  it,  the 
oetel  produces  weak  but  continuous  and  sustained  exhilarating  effects. 
And  that  these  are  of  a  most  agreeable  kind,  may  be  inferred  from  the 
very  extended  area  over  which  the  chewing  of  betel  prevails,  among 
Asiatic  nations.  In  the  damp  and  pestilent  regions  of  India,  where  th» 
natives  live  upon  a  spare  and  miserable  diet  it  is  really  very  condvr 
to  health.  Part  of  its  healthful  influence  in  fever-breeding  districts  _ 
probably  to  be  ascribed  to  the  pepper-leaf  which  is  chewed  along  witi 
the  betel-nut." 

3» 


58  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

of  their  feet.  They  had  also  shawls  around  th^ir  heada 
trowsers  of  red  silk,  and  slippers.  The  musicians  commenced 
singing  a  melancholy,  monotonous  measure,  with  a  lively  ac- 
companiment on  their  lutes.  The  girls  joined  in  the  singing 
occasionally  lifting  their  arms  with  the  utmost  deliberation, 
or  slightly  shifting  the  position  of  their  feet.  Now  one  ad- 
vanced a  few  steps  and  as  slowly  retreated,  now  the  other.  I 
aever  saw  a  dance  so  spiritless  and  inexpressive. 

Some  of  the  songs,  on  the  other  hand,  pleased  me  exceed- 
ingly. Less  wild  and  barbaric  than  the  Arab  chants,  they 
are  pervaded  with  the  same  expression  of  longing  and  of  love^ 
and  though  sung  by  voices  which  were  occasionally  shrill  and 
harsh,  still  preserved  a  touching  air  of  tenderness.  Aftei 
witnessing  two  or  three  dances,  we  were  called  into  the  other 
room,  to  a  collation  of  fruits  and  sweetmeats,  in  which  the 
Parsees  joined  us,  contrary  to  the  usual  custom  of  their  sect. 
This  restriction,  however,  does  not  seem  to  be  a  part  of  their 
faith,  but  to  have  resulted  from  a  long  residence  among  the 
Hindoos,  who  maintain  such  a  religious  distinction  of  caste, 
that  to  the  Brahmin,  the  mere  touch  of  one  of  the  lower 
orders  is  defilement,  and  can  only  be  removed  by  bathing 
and  change  of  apparel.  The  Mussulmans  in  India  have 
adopted  the  same  notions,  and  will  neither  eat  with  Christians 
nor  drink  from  the  same  vessels. 

During  the  interval,  the  nautch-girls  made  a  change  in  the 
liashion  of  their  dress,  by  binding  their  robes  in  such  a  man- 
ner  that  they  reached  only  to  the  knees,  and  giving  theii 
turbans  a  flattened  form,  like  those  worn  by  the  natives  of 
Bengal.  In  fact,  the  dance  which  succeeded  was  called  th< 
Bengalee.     It  diiFered  little  from  the  preceding,  except  that 


THE    BENGALEE    DANCE  59 

the  measure  was  more  animated,  and  the  languid  shuffling  of 
the  feet  done  in  somewhat  quicker  time.  The  song  which 
accompanied  it  was  translated  to  me,  and  ran  thus :  "  My  be- 
loved Nabob,  take  me  to  Calcutta :  with  the  howdah  on  the 
elephant,  the  saddle  on  the  horse."  This  is  the  style  of 
poetry  of  which  these  songs  are  usually  composed,  but  some 
of  them  cannot  be  so  safely  translated  There  are  nautch 
girls  who  have  a  fame  among  the  natives  equal  to  that  of 
Taglioni  or  Ellsler  in  Europe,  and  who  are  paid  at  the  rate 
of  five  hundred  rupees  a  night,  but  they  are  to  be  found  at 
the  Courts  of  the  native  sovereigns  in  Northern  India,  where 
the  na,utches  are  got  up  on  a  grand  scale 

The  previous  evening,  on  my  way  home  from  tlie  Botani 
Garden,  I  met  a  magnificent  marriage  procession  in  the  streets 
of  the  native  town.  First  came  a  large  number  of  beautiful 
children  in  open  vehicles,  the  pearls  and  spangles  of  their 
dresses  glittering  in  the  light  of  torches,  which  were  bornf 
on  long  poles,  and  waved  in  riotous  jubilee  to  the  sound  cf 
the  music.  Behind  them  were  boys  in  jewelled  robes,  on 
horseback,  with  servants  holding  golden-fringed  umbrellas 
above  their  heads.  The  music — a  piercing  medley  of  fifes, 
drums,  and  lutes  —  came  next,  and  then  the  bridegroom^ 
mounted  on  a  white  horse.  He  was  a  man  of  about  twenty, 
clad  in  splendid  robes  of  white  silk,  embroidered  with  gold 
His  turban  gleamed  with  pearls,  and  his  cheeks  and  forehead 
were  covered  with  gold  leaf.  He  was  a  living  El-  Dorado,  but 
sat  so  grave  and  motionless  on  his  horse,  staring  straight 
before  him,  that  he  might  have  been  taken  for  a  bedizened 
itatue.  A  servant,  holding  a  silver  screen  resembling  a  fan. 
valked  on  each  side  of  him,  and  behind  him  came  the  dowry 


6U  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

borne  on  men's  heads.  It  was  contained  in  twcr^ty  cr  thirl\ 
miniature  houses,  arranged  so  a?  to  form  a  quadrangle,  with  a 
temple  in  the  centre. 

I  passed  a  number  of  houses  illuminated  for  marriage  fes- 
tivities, and  from  one  of  them  there  came  the  sound  of  a  flute 
more  shrill  and  piercing,  I  have  no  doubt,  than  any  other 
flute  in  the  world.  Its  tones  were  so  intensely  shrill  as  to 
become  tangible.  They  were  shot  out  of  the  open  windows 
like  barbed  arrows,  and  whenever  any  one  struck  you  it  was 
followed  by  a  keen  sense  of  pain.  They  flew  whistling  down 
the  street,  rattling  against  the  walls,  transfixing  all  civilized 
ears  and  torturing  all  susceptible  nerves.  I  shudder,  even 
now,  to  think  of  the  smarts  I  endured  while  passing  that 
house. 

The  Wadya  family,  to  which  my  host  belonged,  have  been 
for  more  than  half  a  century  the  ship-builders  of  Bombay. 
The  vicinity  of  the  teak  forests  lias  occasioned  the  building  of 
several  ships  of  the  line  for  the  British  Navy  in  the  dock- 
yard there.  The  first  of  these,  the  Minden^  has  been  in 
service  for  nearly  fifty  years,  and  her  condition  still  attests 
the  excellence  of  her  construction.  It  was  between  her 
decks,  while  lying  ofi"  Fort  McHenry,  that  Francis  Key  wrotn 
our  "  Star-spangled  Banner."  The  present  head-builder 
Ilirjeebhoy  Merwanjee,  had  on  the  stocks  at  the  time  of  my 
visit,  two  steamships  of  eighteen  hundred  tons  each.  He  was 
nearly  three  years  in  England,  studying  his  profession,  and 
has  published  a  work  in  English,  giving  his  views  of  English 
institutions  and  society.  The  Government  has  done  much 
for  the  natives  in  the  establishment  of  such  institutions  as  the 
Grant    Medical    College,    the    Elphinstone    Institution,    an(J 


THE    NATIVES    AND    THE    GOVERNMENT.  bl 

Others ,  but  much  still  remains  to  be  done.  The  amount  ex 
pendecl  for  educational  purposes  in  the  Bombay  Presidency 
is  about  £12,500,  which  is  insuffi3ient  to  support  any  general 
system  of  instruction.  The  Board  of  Education  consists  of 
three  English  residents  and  three  natives ;  in  its  operation  it 
embraces  instruction  in  the  Mahratta  and  Guzeratee,  as  well 
as  the  English  and  Hindostanee  languages.  The  Elphinstone 
Institution  has  at  present  about  1,400  scholars,  the  great  pro- 
portion of  whom  are  studying  in  the  English  department. 
They  are,  however,  first  required  to  pass  in  the  vernacular 
languages.  The  respect  in  which  such  men  as  Mountstuart 
Elphinstone  and  Sir  Charles  Forbes  are  held  by  the  natives, 
shows  how  truly  they  appreciate  every  effort  for  their  improve 
ment,  and  how  eagerly  they  would  respond  to  any  measure 
which  had  their  good  in  view. 

The  more  intelligent  of  the  natives  took  advantage  of  the 
approaching  renewal  of  the  East  India  Company's  Chartei 
(which  expired  in  April,  1854),  to  form  associations  and  draw 
up  memorials  for  presentation  to  Government,  in  which  they 
represented  the  disadvantages  of  the  present  system  in  its  effect 
on  the  native  population.  The  movement  was  rather  too  late 
to  be  productive  of  much  effect,  but  it  was  interesting  as  show- 
ing the  temper  of  the  native  subjects  in  India.  I  saw  none 
of  the  memorials  except  that  of  the  Bombay  Association,  which 
was  drawn  up  by  Dr.  Bhawoo  Dajee.  It  was  an  admirably 
written  document,  moderate  and  respectful,  but  at  the  same 
time  firm  and  dignified  in  its  tone,  stating  with  great  clear 
iies9  the  causes  of  complaint,  and  suggesting  means  of  redress 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE     BANGHY     CABT 

I'reparations  for  Departnre-Warninsrs— Filial  Gratitude— The  Banghy  Cart— A  Kighfc 
Gallop  thr(  ugh  Bombay— The  Island  Road— Ferry  to  the  Mainland— Deep jtiiam  ol 
the  Ba3ghy-Cart— Morning  Scenery— The  Bungalow— Breakfast— The  Sun  as  a  Phy- 
sician—An Army  of  Bullocks— Climbing  the  Ghauts— Natural  Pagodas— The  Sum- 
mit—A Kind  Sergeant— The  Second  Day — Resemblance  to  Mexico— Natives  and 
Villages— The  Menagerie  Man  in  Egypt— An  English  Cantonment — Dhoolia — The 
Lieutenant  and  his  Hospitality— A  Rough  Road— Accident— "Waiting  in  the  Jungle— 
The  Bullock-Cart— Halt  at  Seerpore. 

As  I  was  bound  for  China,  and  could  spare  but  a  very  short 
time  for  my  journeys  in  India,  I  remained  only  a  week  in 
Bombay.  The  information  given  me  by  my  English  friends 
did  not  furnish  a  very  satisfactory  prospect  of  visiting  Delhi 
and  the  Himalayas,  and  reaching  Calcutta,  within  the  space  o^ 
two  months,  without  a  much  greater  expenditure  of  money 
than  I  was  prepared  to  make.  The  usual  mode  of  travelling 
aad  up  to  that  time  been  by  palanquin,  a  mode  as  costly  as  it 
is  disagreeable.  The  post-road  to  Agra,  however,  had  recently 
beer  made  passable  for  a  small  cart  which  carried  the  mails, 
and  just  before  my  arrival  a  hanghy-cart  had  commenced  run- 
ning from  Bombay  tolndore.  a  distance  of  375  miles,  or  about 


PREPABATI0N8  FOR  DEPARTURE. 


63 


half  way  to  the  former  city.  A  hanghy  meaus,  I  believe,  a 
package,  or  something  of  that  sort,  and  the  cart  answers  to  a 
package-express.  Mr.  Cowasjee  Ruttonjee,  the  contractor, 
assured  me  that  the  trip  would  positively  be  made  within  six 
days,  travelling  day  and  night.  The  fare  was  four  annas 
(twelve  cents)  per  mile,  or  nearly  $47,  exclusive  of  expenses 
by  the  way.  This,  for  India,  was  considered  cheap  travelling, 
and  I  resolved  to  make  a  trial  of  it.  I  was  obliged  to  give  up 
the  idea  of  taking  a  servant  with  me,  and  to  trust  entirely  to 
about  twenty  words  of  Hindostanee,  which  I  had  picked  up  on 
board  the  Achilles.  Many  were  the  evil  predictions  made  to 
me  by  most  of  my  English  friends :  "  You  can  never  stand  the 
fatigue;  you  can  get  nothing  to  eat;  you  will  be  perfectly 
helpless  if  any  thing  happens,"  etc.  But  an  old  officer,  who 
had  travelled  not  only  over  all  India  but  nearly  all  the  world, 
wisely  comforted  me.  "  Never  mind  what  these  people  say," 
said  he ;  "  they  are  accustomed  to  travel  luxuriously,  with  re- 
tinues of  servants.  Depend  upon  it,  you  will  get  along  without 
the  least  difficulty." 

I  sent  my  heavy  baggage  by  the  steamer  to  Calcutta,  lim- 
ting  myself  to  two  small  carpet-bags,  which  was  all  that 
Cowasjee  would  take  in  his  cart.  My  Hindoo  servant,  witl 
the  one  red  and  two  white  stripes  on  his  forehead,  procured 
me  a  native  tailor,  who  made  me  several  pairs  of  pantaloons, 
of  a  shape  so  remarkable  that  I  have  not  been  able  to  wear 
them,  to  this  day.  Perhaps  as  I  grow  older,  my  form  wiU  ap 
proach  nearer  to  the  standard  of  Hindoo  Art,  and  they  will 
.hen  become  serviceable.  The  striped  servant  looked  very 
forlorn  and  disconsolate,  as  he  carried  my  carpet-bags  from 
Pallaniee's  Hotel  to  the  Express  Office,  ou  the  evening  of  the 


S4  IHDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

3d  of  Jai  lary.  "  0  my  master  !  '*  he  bewailed  :  *  I  am  werrj 
Borry  to  part  with  you.  You  are  my  father,  and  I  am  youi 
8on.  0  my  father,  I  shall  never  forget  you !  "  Considering 
that  he  was  of  a  dark-brown  complexion,  forty  years  old,  and 
rather  ill-favored,  I  was  not  anxious  to  accept  the  relationship^ 
but,  not  to  be  wanting  in  parental  regard,  I  gave  him  nearly 
double  the  wages  agreed  upon.  Not  only  did  he  show  no  grat 
itude,  but  importuned  me  for  more — so  little  filial  affection  i? 
there  in  India ! 

The  banghy-cart  was  in  readiness  before  Cowasjee's  office, 
when  I  arrived.  It  was  a  square,  springless  buggy,  with  a 
white  canvas  top,  and  extremely  heavy  shafts  and  wheels. 
My  baggage  and  the  packages  for  the  interior  were  stowed  in 
the  body  of  the  vehicle,  the  driver  and  I  took  our  seats, 
Cowasjee  inclined  his  body  and  touched  his  Parsee  mitre,  and 
away  we  dashed  into  Monument-square.  A  groom  ran  at  the 
horse's  head  till  we  were  fairly  under  way,  and  then  climbed 
upon  the  box  behind  us.  We  went  out  of  the  gates  of  the 
Fort,  crossed  the  esplanade,  and  entered  the  busy  native  town^ 
where  we  encountered  two  marriage  processions.  The  red 
torches  glittered  on  pearls  and  gold  embroidery,  on  the  silver 
pyramids  of  the  dowry,  and  the  rainbow  silks  of  the  women. 
Our  horse,  frightened  by  the  noise  of  the  drums  and  cymbals 
dashed  off  furiously,  making  directly  for  a  blank  wall,  before 
which  several  persons  were  passing.  The  driver  seemed  pow- 
erless, and  we  came  instantly  upon  the  wall,  catching  one  of 
the  natives  between  it  and  the  wheel.  I  sprang  forward,  seized 
the  reins  and  drew  the  horse  around  just  in  time  to  save  the 
Dian's  life,  though  not,  I  fear,  to  prevent  his  being  badly  in 
jared.     The  horse  now  started  at  a  mad  gallop  down  tht 


THE    ISLANDS    AT    NIGHT.  65 

stieet,  wMcli  was  crowded  with  people.  The  driver  stooped 
down  and  raised  to  his  month  something  which,  in  the  dark 
ness,  resembled  a  bottle.  He  did  indeed  take  a  horn — and 
blew  the  most  terrible  blasts,  as  we  careered  onwards  ike 
Shiva,  the  Destroyer,  the  white-robed,  ghost-like  natives  scat- 
tering on  all  sides  before  us.  I  grasped  tie  top  of  the  cart 
tightly  and  awaited  the  result,  for  the  horse  swerved  from 
side  to  side  in  such  a  manner  that  a  crash  seemed  inevitable. 
However,  in  less  time  than  it  has  taken  to  write  these  lines, 
we  were  outside  of  Bombay,  and  the  cessation  of  noise  and 
glare  restored  the  animal  to  his  senses. 

There  was  no  moon,  but  we  had  the  brilliant  starlight  of 
the  tropics,  and  for  an  hour  after  leaving,  the  zodiacal  light 
stood  like  a  shining  obelisk  in  the  west.  The  road  was  broad, 
and  as  smooth  and  as  hard  as  a  floor,  and  in  less  than  an  hour 
we  reached  the  first  station.  Another  horse  was  in  readiness, 
and  not  less  mettlesome  than  tbe  first,  so  that  we  made  fully 
six  miles  an  hour.  The  road  was  embowered  in  mango,  syca- 
more, palm  and  tamarind  trees,  whose  breath  made  the  night 
warm  and  balmy.  Our  lamps  shed  transient  gleams  on  the 
rich  masses  of  foliage,  and  I  was  so  delighted  with  the  pictures 
thus  brought  out  of  the  darkness  on  either  hand,  that  1 
reached  the  end  of  the  gardens  and  of  Bombay  Island  with 
regret.  A  solid  stone  causeway  extends  across  the  shallow 
strait  to  the  Island  of  Salsette,  whose  hills  now  rose  dimly 
before  me.  In  these  hills  are  the  caves  and  temples  of  Ken 
*ry.  During  my  stay  at  Bombay  I  had  not  time  to  visit  them 
but  I  was  informed  that  they  are  on  a  much  smaller  scale  thaB 
those  of  Elephant-.i,  though  so  num  rous  that  the  nativer 
reckon  their  number  at  nine  hundred, 


66  INDIA,   CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

We  changed  horses  twice  on  the  island  of  Salsette,  once  a1 
ft  village  of  mud  and  bamboo  huts,  so  thoroughly  Egyptian  in 
appearance  that  I  could  have  believed  myself  on  the  banks  of 
the  Nile.  At  midnight  we  reached  the  northern  end  of  the 
island,  which  is  about  twenty  miles  in  length.  We  roused 
the  sleepy  ferrymen,  who  dragged  the  cart  upon  a  platform 
laid  across  two  small  boats,  and  slowly  rowed  us  over  to  the 
mainland  of  India.  The  strait,  as  well  as  I  could  distinguish, 
is  very  crooked,  and  not  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  mile  in 
breadth.  Up  to  this  time  I  had  not  spoken,  nor  been  spoken 
to,  for  a  very  good  reason,  but  no  sooner  was  the  cart  hauled 
ashore,  than  the  boatmen  came  up  to  me  exclaiming :  "  kishti- 
walla  :  chirramirry  /  "  (As  much  as  to  say ;  "  we  are  the 
boatmen,  give  us  a  gratuity."  I  remembered  the  words,  and 
found  them  next  morning  in  my  vocabulary.)  I  gave  them  a 
small  fee,  and  then  the  driver  came  up,  saying  "  Salaam,  sahib 
— chirramirry  /  "  So  there  could  be  no  doubt  as  to  the  mean- 
ing of  "  chirramirry." 

With  a  new  driver  and  a  new  horse  I  again  started  for- 
ward. The  country  was  more  open  and  undulating,  and  all 
signs  of  gardens  and  residences  disappeared.  Now  and  then 
we  passed  a  mud  village,  and  about  every  hour  changed  horses 
at  a  rude  station,  before  reaching  which  the  driver  blew 
furious  peals  upon  his  trumpet.  In  consequence  of  this,  we 
generally  found  the  horse  in  waiting,  and  experienced  no 
delay  in  changing.  The  night  wore  away,  the  waning  moon 
came  up,  and  then  the  morning-star ;  the  travelling  natives, 
encamped  among  the  trees,  began  to  bestir  themselves,  and 
with  the  first  streak  of  daylight  their  heavy  ox-wagons  were 
*.n  motion.     Now  came  the  horn  again  into  play,  and  thence 


MORNING    SCENERY.  67 

I'oitli  there  was  ao  cessation  of  its  warning  blasts.  Everj 
tiling  must  give  uaj  to  the  banghy-cart.  Woe  to  the  native 
who,  having  heard  the  horn  half  a  mile  behind  him,  still  dozed 
on,  allowing  his  plodding  cattle  to  keep  the  best  track.  Down 
jumped  the  groom,  battering  the  beasts  out  of  the  way,  and 
a  touch  of  the  driver's  whip  not  seldom  quickened  the 
senses  of  their  masters.  No  one  dared  to  remonstrate,  for  the 
banghy-cart  is  attached  to  the  Post- Office  Department. 

Morning  showed  me  an  open,  rolling  country,  studded 
here  and  there  with  clumps  of  trees,  and  showing  occasional 
Bigns  of  cultivation.  As  it  was  then  the  dry  season,  the  grass 
was  brown  and  withered,  and  the  soil  parched.  The  sea  was 
out  of  sight,  and  the  broken  ranges  of  the  Ghauts  before  me, 
seemed  near  at  hand.  The  road  was  broad  and  good,  and 
bridged  over  the  gullies,  but  so  beaten  by  continual  travel, 
that  we  swept  along  in  a  cloud  of  dust.  I  hailed  the  rising 
sun  with  the  fervor  of  a  Parsee,  for  the  night  had  been  so 
cold,  that  in  spite  of  a  thick  great-coat,  I  was  chilled  to  the 
very  bones.  I  was  getting  hungry,  also,  and  knowing  that  we 
must  be  approaching  a  bungalow,  I  took  out  Forbes's  Hindos- 
tanee  grammar,  and  began  searching  for  the  words  to  express 
my  wants.  Having  prepared  a  sufficient  stock  of  nouns,  and 
the  verbs  "  bring  "  and  "  give,"  I  deemed  myself  capable  of 
achieving  a  breakfast. 

But  first,  it  is  necessary  to  explain  the  meaning  of  a  bun- 
galow. I  believe  it  is  the  general  term  in  India  for  a  resi- 
dence of  the  better  class,  as  the  English,  except  in  large  cities, 
always  speak  of  their  houses  as  "  bungalows."  On  all  the 
principal  lines  of  road  throughout  the  country,  the  Govern- 
ment  hag  erected  bungalows,  at  intervals  of  from  ten  to  twenty 


d8  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

milos,  for  the  accommodation  of  European  travellers.  Th( 
natives  have  their  serais,  resembling  the  Turkish  khans,  and 
unless  travelling  by  post,  are  not  admitted  into  the  bungalows 
The  latter  are  plain  but  substantial  cottages,  furnished  onlj 
with  tables,  chairs,  and  bedsteads,  and  generally  containing 
two  dining  and  two  sleeping  apartments.  There  are  cut- 
houses  for  the  residence  of  a  native  servant,  called  a  peon,  who 
has  charge  of  the  establishment,  and  for  the  cooks,  or  mess- 
men,  who  are  obliged  to  procure  supplies  and  prepare  meals 
according  to  a  fixed  scale  of  prices.  For  the  use  of  the  bun- 
galow, each  traveller  pays  one  rupee  (fifty  cents)  per  day 
Were  it  not  for  this  excellent  arrangement,  one  would  be 
obliged  to  take  tents  and  all  the  paraphernalia  of  a  house 
hold,  and  to  carry  supplies  with  him  from  place  to  place.  A 
register  for  the  names  of  travellers  is  kept  in  each  bungalow, 
and  they  are  requested  to  note  the  sums  paid,  in  order  to  pre 
vent  dishonesty  on  the  part  of  the  peons.  By  nine  o'clock 
we  reached  the  village  of  Khurdee,  sixty-four  miles  from 
Bombay.  The  word  "hazree"  (breakfast)  i^onveyed  my  in 
tention  to  the  driver,  and  he  answered :  "  Achcha,  sahib  " 
(very  well,  sir).  I  succeeded  so  well  with  the  messman  that  in 
an  hour  an  excellent  curry  and  omelette  smoked  upon  the 
table.  The  natives,  all  along  the  road,  have  ingrafted  some 
English  words  upon  the  Hindostanee,  and  frequently  use  them 
in  a  very  amusing  manner.  Whenever  I  asked  for  eggs,  I 
was  almost  sure  to  be  asked  in  return  :  "  S^alf  hiled  or  mom^ 
kf  ^  "  I  was  provident  ei.ough  to  supply  myself  with  a  paper  of 
tea  in  Bombay,  since  it  is  not  always  to  be  had  on  the  road. 

On  getting  into  the  cart,  at  the  last  station  before  reach, 
mg  Khurdee    the  step  broke,  and   as  T  fell,  my  knee  struci 


rtUN-CURE AN    ARMY    OF    BULLOCKS.  69 

apon  a  projecting  bolt,  causing  such  intense  pain  as  almost  to 
depriv^e  me  of  my  senses  By  the  time  we  halted  againj  the 
joint  was  so  stiff  that  I  could  scarcely  bend  it.  The  hurt  pro- 
duced such  a  chilliness  that  my  teeth  chattered,  and  I  was 
fain  to  sit  in  the  sun  while  breakfast  was  preparing.  The 
morning  was  scorchingly  hot,  and  I  soon  noticed  that  the  heat 
seemed  to  draw  out  the  pain  from  the  injured  limb.  In  fact, 
after  sunning  it  half  an  hour  I  was  able  to  get  up  and  walk  as 
usual,  and  thenceforth  never  felt  the  slightest  inconvenience 
from  the  injury.  This  is  a  case  of  sun-cure,  which  I  recommend 
to  any  one  who  is  anxious  to  start  a  new  system  of  healing. 

Khurdee  lies  at  the  base  of  the  Ghauts,  and  our  road  now 
plunged  into  a  wild,  hilly  region,  covered  with  jungle.  The 
road  was  broad,  but  very  rough,  and  so  steep  that  nothing  but 
the  emigrant  trail  over  the  Sierra  Nevada  could  equal  it.  At 
the  worst  descents,  my  conductor  called  upon  the  aid  of  half  a 
dozen  bullock-drivers,  who  seized  the  shafts  and  pushed  back 
ward  with  all  their  force.  Our  progress  was  still  further 
hindered  by  the  endless  throng  of  bullocks  which  we  met. 
They  were  laden  with  bags  of  rice  and  of  grain,  and  bales  of 
cotton,  and  on  their  way  downward  to  the  coast.  Between 
Khurdee  and  Kussara,  a  distance  of  twelve  miles,  we  must 
have  passed  from  fifteen  to  twenty  thousand  of  them.  They 
were  all  heavily  laden,  and  jogging  on  at  a  slow,  patient  walk, 
which  would  carry  them  about  ten  miles  a  day.  Those,  how- 
ever, who  are  trained  to  harness  and  employed  by  the  natives 
%s  draught  animals,  easily  tra^  el  twenty-five  miles  a  day,  ever 
on  a  long  journey.  Though  the  cow  is  such  a  sacred  beast  ir 
India,  there  is  no  end  to  the  labor  imposed  upon  her  children, 
nor  is  she  herself  always  spared. 


70  INDIA,    CHINA,    AM)    .JAPAN. 

We  were  nearly  four  hours  in  malting  the  twelve  miles 
over  the  .pass  of  Rudtoondee,  and  then  came  down  upon 
Ku.^sara,  a  little  village  situated  in  a  dell  at  the  foot  c.f  the 
Tull  Ghaut.  The  highest  i)arapet  of  the  range  was  now 
above  us  and  the  final  a.^cent  to  the  table-land  commenced. 
The  pbysicial  formation  of  this  part  of  India  very  much  re- 
Berables  that  of  the  Western  Coast  of  Mexico.  The  summit 
level  is  nearly  uniform,  but  instead  of  presenting  a  mural 
front,  it  thrusts  out  projecting  spurs  or  headlands,  and  is 
cloven  by  deep  gorges.  Sharp  peaks  rise  here  and  there  from 
the  general  level,  formed  of  abrupt  but  gradually  diminishing 
terraces,  crowned  by  domes  or  towers  of  naked  rock.  At  a 
distance,  they  bear  an  extraordinary  resemblance  to  works  of 
art,  and,  what  is  very  striking,  to  the  ancient  temples  of  the 
Hindoos.  Is  this  an  accidental  resemblance,  or  did  not  the  old 
races  in  reality  get  their  forms  of  architecture  directly  from 
Nature?  It  is  certainly  a  striking  coincidence  that  all  the 
hills  in  the  Nubian  Desert  should  be  pyramids,  and  all  the 
peaks  of  the  Indian  Ghauts  pagodas.  The  word  ghaut  means 
a  flight  of  steps,  as  the  Ghauts  are  a  succession  of  tenaces 
descending  from  the  table-land  to  the  sea ;  and  every  principal 
Hindoo  temple  is  approached  by  a  ghaut.  The  formation  oi 
the  summits  is  a  characteristic  of  Indian  scenery.  Tennyson, 
who,  1  believe,  has  never  been  in  India,  describes  in  two  lines 
the  most  peculiar  aspects  of  the  country : 

"And  over  hilh  with  peaky  tops  engrailed^ 
And  many  a  tract  of  palm  ami  rice. 
The  throne  of  Indian  Cama  slowly  sailed, 
A  summer  fanned  with  spice." 

There   is   a  splendid  artificial  road  leading    up    the   Tul' 


THE    KIND    SERGEANT.  •* 


Glhaut      As  a  piece  of  engmeevmg,  it  will  vie  with  some  of 
the  best  roads  in  Europe.     Tlie  grade  is  so  slight  that  wc 
drove  all  the  way  on  a  fast  trot,  and  the  windings  around  the 
sides  of  the  gorge  gave  me  grand  views  of  the  lower  terraces 
„f  the  Ghauts.     At  the  top,  we  entered  on  the  great  table 
land  of  Central  India.     It  was  an  open,  undulating  region 
ranch  better  cultivated  than  any  I  had  yet  seen,  and  crossed, 
at  intervals  of  twenty  to  thirty  miles,  by  high  ranges  of  hills. 
The  air  was  drier  and  purer  than  below,  and  the  setting  sun 
shone  broad  and  warm  over  tracts  of  wheat  and  sugar-cane. 
We  rolled  along  merrily,  through  the  twilight  and  into  tli<: 
darkness  again,  and  towards  nine  o'clock  came  to  the  large 
town  and  military  station  of  Nassick. 

I  went  directly  to  the  bungalow,  for  I  was  quite  ready  foi 
dinner.     An  Englishman  came  out  of  one  of  the  rooms,  and 
not  only  assisted^  me  in  ordering  the  meal,  but  sent  his  own 
servant  to  help  get  it  ready.     He  evidently  took  me  for  an 
officer  (for  a  traveller  is  a   rare  sight  in  India),  and  meekly 
remarked,  "lam  only   a  sergeant,  in  the  Engineers  Corps. 
I  caught  the  fever  in  the  jungles  at  Khurdee,  and  have  beeo 
sent  up  here  to  recover."     I  was  very  much  fatigued,  and  lay 
down  upon  the  bare  bedstead,  while  dinner  was  preparing. 
The  sergeant  brought  his  pillow  and  placed  it  under  my  head, 
xnd  when  I  awoke  after  two  hours'  sleep,  I  found  his  cloak 
carefully  wrapped  around  me  and  himself  tenderly  matching, 
that  nothing  might  disturb  my  slumbers.     It  was  nearly  mid- 
night before  the  bangby-cart  came.     I  took  leave  of  the  kind- 
hearted  sergeant,  and  we  set  out  at  a  slow  pace.     We  had 
already  crossed  the  watershed  of  India,  and  soon  after  leaving 
Kassick,  forded  the  Godavery,  one  of  the  largest  streams  it 


1 2  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAl'AA. 

the  country,  which  empties  into  the  sea  on  the  Coromandel 
Coast,  not  far  from  Madras.  Soon  afterwards  we  entered  a 
large  town  by  a  gateway,  with  a  Moorish  arch,  and  threaded 
the  silent  streets — a  scene  which  recalled  forcibly  to  mj 
mind,  a  midnight  ramble  through  the  town  of  Ekhmin,  in 
Upper  Egypt. 

All  the  rest  of  the  night  we  travelled  slowly  along, 
through  a  rolling  country,  and  about  nine  next  morning  reached 
Chandore,  only  forty-five  miles  from  Nassick.  Chandore  is  a 
walled  town,  situated  in  a  hollow  at  the  foot  of  the  Chandore 
Ghaut.  It  boasts  several  Hindoo  temples  of  dark  stone,  but 
none  of  them  remarkable  for  size  or  beauty.  The  gro- 
tesque idols,  their  faces  smeared  with  red  paint,  were  visible 
through  the  open  door.  I  went  to  the  bungalow  for  breakfast, 
and  was  obliged  to  wait  three  hours  before  the  cart  came — a 
delay  which  enabled  me  to  get  a  little  more  sleep.  Neverthe- 
less, the  heat  and  glare  of  the  noonday  sun  so  disposed  me  tc 
drowsiness,  that  I  was  several  times  on  the  point  of  tumbling 
out  of  the  cart.  I  should  have  stated  that  at  Khurdee  we 
changed  vehicles,  and  after  that  I  had  nothing  but  a  square  box 
on  wheels,  without  springs  or  cover.  We  crossed  the  Chan- 
dore Ghaut  by  a  wild  pass,  half  way  up  which  stands  a  pagoda, 
BO  old  and  black  that  it  might  properly  belong  to  the  Yezidees, 
or  Devil- Worshippers.  Beyond  the  Ghaut  we  came  upon  a 
waste,  hilly  region,  entirely  covered  with  thorny  jungle. 

All  this  part  of  India  reminded  me  strongly  of  the  table- 
And  of  Mexico.  There  are  the  same  broad,  sweeping  plains, 
gashed  by  deep  ravines  and  gullies ;  the  same  barren  chains 
of  hills,  and  the  same  fertile  dips  of  lowland,  rich  in  corn  an  5 
2ane      I  passed  through  more  than  one  landscape,  where,  if  1 


RESEMBLANCE    TO    MEXICO.  73 

had  been  brought  blindfold  and  asked  to  guess  where  I  was,  1 
Bbould  have  declared  at  once :  "  This  is  Mexico."  Substitute 
the  words  nulla  for  "arroyo,"  (gully,)  ghaut  for  "sierra,'' 
nd  jungle  for  "  chapparal,"  and  you  change  a  description  of 
he  Mexican  into  that  of  the  Indian  table-land.  I  must 
dmit,  however,  that,  in  general,  Mexican  scenery  is  on  a 
broader  and  grander  scale  than  here.  We  Americans  need 
not  envy  England  the  possession  of  India ;  for,  if  we  were 
not  a  people  obstinately  opposed  to  the  acquisition  of  new 
territory — if  we  were  not  utterly  blind  to  "  manifest  destiny," 
and  regardless  of  the  hints  which  "  Geography  "  is  constantly 
throwing  out  to  us — we  might  possess  ourselves  of  Cuba  and 
Mexico,  and  thus  outrival  her.  Some  of  my  readers  may 
laugh  at  the  absurdity  of  such  an  idea ;  but  when  a  man  is 
travelling  alone,  among  a  strange  people,  he  is  scarcely  respon- 
sible for  all  that  comes  into  his  head. 

The  resemblance  to  Mexico,  however,  does  not  extend  to 
the  towns  and  population,  which  are  rather  those  of  Egypt. 
The  Indian  native  is  darker  than  the  Egyptian  Fellah,  and 
has  a  more  acute  and  lively  face,  but  in  his  habits  and  man 
ners  he  has  much  in  common  with  the  latter.  He  hag  the 
game  natural  quickness  of  intellect,  the  same  capacity  for  de- 
ception, the  same  curious  mixture  of  impudence  and  abject 
servility,  and  the  same  disregard  of  clothing.  The  houses  are 
low  cabins  of  mud  and  bamboo,  or  in  the  larger  villages,  of 
mud  and  unburnt  bricks,  with  mud  divans  in  front,  and  dome- 
times  thatched  verandahs  resting  on  wooden  pillars.  Noth- 
ing can  be  more  miserable  than  the  appearance  of  thu  smaller 
villages,  which  are  even  inferior  to  those  of  the  Nile  Delta, 
and  I  should  like  to  exhibit  tlioiii  to  ;in  oriLnnal   E-iirlishmar 


74  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

w^lio  went  in  the  same  boat  with  me  from  Alexandria  to  Cairo 
As  we  were  passing  one  of  the  villages  on  the  Nile,  he  aamc 
up  to  me  with  a  horrified  expression  of  face,  grasped  my  arm 
pointed  to  the  huts,  and  exclaimed:  *'  Look  there  !  people  ao 
tually  live  there  !  "  "  Is  it  possible  ?  "  said  I,  with  as  much 
astonishment  as  I  could  command-  on  such  short  notice. 
*'Yes,"  he  repHed;  "Good  God,  it's  dreadful!"  This  man 
was  a  son  of  a  keeper  of  a  menagerie,  and  was  on  his  way  to 
Central  Africa,  in  search  of  the  Great  Hydrocephalus,  oi 
some  other  unknown  monster.  He  was  in  a  furious  state  of 
indignation,  because  Discount  &  Co.,  the  bankers  at  Alexan- 
dria, had  taken  four  per  cent,  commission  on  his  letter  of 
credit.  "  It's  only  a  month  since  I  left  England,"  said  he, 
"  and  that's  four  per  cent,  a  month,  and  that  makes  forty- 
eight  per  cent,  a  year.  Suppose  I  had  been  a  year  on  the 
way,  I  should  have  been  ruined.  If  I  had  money  enough  to 
buy  the  Hydrocephalus,  I  should  not  draw  a  penny,  and  then 
they  would  have  to  refund  the  whole  of  it.  But  I'll  write  a 
letter  to  The  Times,  and  we'll  see  how  much  more  business 
of  that  sort  they'll  do." 

To  return  to  the  banghy-cart :  we  rolled  on  all  the  after 
Qoon  through  alternate  jungle  and  cultivated  land,  and 
toward  evening  reached  Mulleigaum,  a  military  cantonment. 
It  is  situated  in  the  middle  of  an  open  plain,  which,  although 
apparently  barren,  needs  but  irrigation  to  make  it  one  vast 
garden.  The  neat  bungalows  of  the  English  officers  are  em- 
powered in  foliage  and  blossoms,  which  water  alone  hae 
3oaxed  out  of  the  soil.  The  orchards  of  bananas  dropped 
their  plumy  leaves,  and  the  thick  hedges  of  Persian  roses, 
orimson  with  blossoms,  scented  the  air  far  and  wide.    Througt 


DHOOLIA THE    LIEUTENANT  78 

the  verandahs  and  open  doors  I  caught  glimpses  of  elegant 
furniture  and  pictures  within,  and  once  a  female  figure  glided 
past.  I  had  fancied  India  to  be  a  place  of  exile,  but  nothing 
could  be  more  cheerful  and  homelike  than  these  residences. 
The  sepoys  were  drawn  up  on  the  parade-ground  for  evening 
review,  and  a  most  soldierly  appearance  they  made.  We 
drove  to  the  post-office,  and  as  I  had  not  time  to  take  dinner, 
I  accepted  the  services  of  a  Portuguese  who  spoke  English, 
and  who  ofi'ered  to  procure  me  supplies  for  the  road.  He 
obtained  some  biscuits,  boiled  some  eggs,  and  made  me  a  bot- 
tle of  strong  tea,  but  refused  to  accept  of  the  slightest  pay  for 
his  services. 

Thus  supplied,  I  entered  on  the  third  night  of  my  jour- 
Qey.  It  was  somewhat  cloudy  and  dark,  and  I  could  only 
observe  that  our  road  lay  over  the  same  wide  uplands,  except 
for  a  few  miles,  when  passing  the  Lulling  Ghaut.  The  way 
was  rough  and  stony,  and  the  thumps  I  received  kept  me  from 
falling  into  the  road  through  drowsiness.  An  hour  past  mid- 
night I  reached  the  military  station  of  Dhoolia,  215  miles 
from  Bombay,  and  was  not  sorry  when  the  driver  informed 
me  that  he  should  go  no  further  that  night.  Off  I  started  for 
the  bungalow,  and  on  reaching  it,  was  surprised  to  find  the 
rooms  lighted,  and  a  man  in  English  dress  on  the  verandah. 
He  held  a  small  lantern  before  him,  which  prevented  my  see- 
ing his  face.  "  Is  this  the  travellers'  bungalow  ?  "  I  asked. 
He  said  nothing,  but  threw  the  light  of  the  lamp  full  upon 
my  face,  held  it  there  a  few  moments,  and  then  cried  out : 
'*Why,  you're  a  traveller!  Yes.  Come  in.  It's  full,  but 
I'll  make  room  for  you.  I'm  just  taking  a  cup  of  tea :  wiL^ 
\ou   take   tea,   ov    beer,   or    brandy-and-water  ?      Itchoglan 


76  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN 

bring  tea ! "  There  was  no  resisting  such  a  rapid  welcome, 
and  before  I  had  time  to  put  in  a  word  of  explanation,  I  was 
seated  on  one  end  of  the  table,  drinking  a  cup  of  tea  with  the 
Lieutenant^  for  such  he  proved  to  be.  Meanwhile,  he  was 
giving  orders  on  all  sides.  One  servant  ran  for  a  bedstead  ; 
another  for  a  pillow;  a  third  for  a  quilt.  "I'll  make  you 
comfortable,"  said  he ;  "  you  didn't  expect  such  rough  times, 
did  you  now  ?  You  thought  India  was  like  England,  didn't 
you  ?  That's  the  way.  But  you  want  to  go  to  bed.  Here, 
let  my  servants  pull  off  your  boots,  and  help  you  undress. 
You  never  did  that  in  England,  you  know,  and  you  won't 
know  how  to  go  about  it."  And  so  he  ran  on,  what  length 
of  time  I  cannot  tell,  for  I  no  sooner  lay  down,  than  I  fell 
fast  asleep. 

I  was  awakened  at  sunrise  by  his  servant,  with  a  cup  of 
tea  and  a  plate  of  biscuit.  The  Lieutenant  walked  with  me 
to  the  Post- Office,  and  as  the  cart  was  not  ready,  took  me  to 
the  bungalow  of  some  other  officers,  who  immediately  invited 
me  to  breakfast.  The  conversation  was  so  exclusively  mili- 
tary, that  I  did  not  feel  much  interested  in  it.  So-and-so,  of 
the  99th,  was  going  to  sell  out;  such-a-one,  of  "  Ours,"  had 
applied  for  two  months'  leave,  etc.  Presently  the  cart  came, 
and  I  took  a  cordial  leave  of  them  all.  The  road,  after  leav- 
ing Dhoolia,  became  indescribably  bad.  Th«j  soil  was  a  soft 
brown  loam,  which,  after  the  rains,  had  been  terribly  cut  up 
by  the  heavy  bullock-carts,  and  was  now  hard  and  dry.  Our 
horse  stumbled  slowly  along  over  the  ruts,  a  groom  leading 
him  by  the  head.  The  country  was  crossed  by  deep  nullas, 
or  galleys,  many  of  which  were  very  difficult  to  pass.  The 
scenery  presented  no  new  features,  except  a  singular  isolated 


A    BREAK    DOWN    IN    THE    JUNGLE.  77 

hill,  resembliug  a  fortress,  near  Soongheer.  Beyond  this 
point  it  was  mostly  hilly  jungle,  with  few  habitations.  Dur- 
ing the  afternoon,  we  passed  three  elephants,  which  wer€ 
standing  in  the  shade  of  a  large  peepul  tree,  motionless  as  if 
ewn  out  of  basaltic  rock. 

It  was  already  two  o'clock,  and  we  had  only  proceeded 
about  twenty  miles  from  Dhoolia,  when  the  axle  suddenly 
snapped  under  the  repeated  jolts,  and  I  was  thrown  into  the 
road.  I  escaped  with  a  slight  bruise,  and  sat  down  in  the 
jungle  to  await  the  issue.  As  I  could  neither  give  nor  take 
suggestions,  I  was  silent;  but  I  had  with  me  that  exhaustless 
fountain  of  patience,  a  pipe,  and  soon  attained  a  mood  of 
cheerful  indifference  as  to  what  might  happen.  The  driver 
took  out  the  baggage  and  packages,  and  sat  down  with  them 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  road ;  the  groom  took  the  horse 
and  galloped  off.  An  hour  passed  by ;  two  hours ;  and  still 
we  sat  in  silence,  watching  the  procession  of  Hindoos,  Mos- 
lems, bullocks,  ponies  and  camels  that  came  and  went  between 
us.  At  last  a  bullock-cart  dashed  up  on  a  fast  trot,  the  uag- 
gage  was  packed  upon  it,  I  took  my  seat  and  away  we  went, 
leaving  the  broken  banghy-cart  in  the  road.  Was  that  the  last 
of  it  ?  the  reader  may  ask.     We  shall  see. 

We  reached  a  place  called  Seerpore,  at  dusk,  our  brave 
bullocks  having  made  ten  miles  in  two  hours.  I  had  supper, 
a  good  night's  rest,  and  breakfast,  and  there  was  still  no 
sign  of  the  cart.  The  messman,  who  was  very  civil  and  at 
tontive,  informed  me  that  it  would  be  mended  by  noon 
Meanwhile,  there  was  I,  I  knew  not  precisely  where.  I  could 
not  find  the  place  on  the  map.  That  it  was  in  India  I  was  cer- 
tain, because  there  was  a  handsome  Hindoo  temple  close  be 


78  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

side  the  bungalow,  and  before  the  temple  an  immense  ban 
yan  tree,  and  under  the  banyan  tree  two  elephants.  I  made  a 
sketch  of  the  scene,  as  a  memorial  of  the  adventure. 

At  last  a  native  entered,  and  with  a  profound  salaam, 
said:  ''Sahib  hanghy-cart  taiyar  haV  (Sir  the  banghy- carl 
is  ready). 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  BANGHY-CART,  CONCLUDED — -INDORE» 

Departura  from  Seerpore— Another  Break -down— A  Crippled  Cart— Palaenehr— Indl« 
Horses  and  Drivers— Jungle— The  Banyan  Tree— The  Tamarind— The  Natives  of 
the  Jungle— Military  Salutations— The  Town  of  Sindwah— Tokens  of  Decay— The 
Sindwah  Jungles — A  Dilemma — The  Vindhya  Mountains — The  Station  of  Mhow— 
Arrival  at  Indore— The  Town— The  Rajah's  Palace— The  Eajah  and  his  History— 
His  Tastes — Hindoo  Temples  and  their  Worshippers— The  English  Eesidency- 
Cold  Weather. 

It  was  not  without  som-e  misgivings  that  I  again  took  my 
seat  in  the  banghy-cart,  and  left  the  place  called  Seerpore.  I 
was  now  entering  the  Sindwah  jungles,  a  desolate  region, 
swarming  with  tigers,  and  so  unhealthy  that  from  the  end  of 
July  to  the  first  of  January  it  is  impassable.  In  case  of  acci- 
dent there  must  be  detention,  and  detention  in  such  a  case  is 
fraught  with  danger.  However,  "  nothing  venture,  nothing 
win,"  is  the  traveller's  true  maxim.  We  thumped  and  bump- 
ed along  in  the  noonday  heat,  making  about  two  miles  an 
hour^  and  had  proceeded  five  miles,  when  I  saw  the  axle 
(which  I  had  been  watching)  suddenly  give  way  again.  I 
jumped  out  in  time  to  avoid  the  crash,  and  once  more  took  my 
"icat  in  the  jungle,  in  the  shade  of  a  thorny  bush      The  grooni 


80  TNPTA, 

mounted  the  horse  and  rode  away;  the  driver  unpacked  the 
baggage  and  seated  himself  opposite  to  me,  and  thus  we  sat 
for  three  hours.  "  Patience,"  after  all,  is  the  watchword  of 
life.  It  may  seem  incredible,  but  I  was  thoroughly  patient 
during  all  this  time. 

The  groom  at  last  appeared  with  a  new  cart — and  such  a 
cart !  It  had  been  broken  so  often,  that  it  was  a  hopeless  crip- 
ple. The  square  box  had  such  a  pitch  forward,  and  the  step 
was  so  short,  that  I  could  by  no  possibility  keep  my  seat  with- 
out holding  fast  with  both  hands.  By  this  time  it  was  dusk, 
and  we  crept  forward  gradually,  the  horse  occasionally  falling 
down  in  the  ruts,  and  coming  to  a  stand-still  every  fifty  yards, 
until  urged  forward  by  repeated  cries  of  "  ai  bap  /  ai  hhai  !  " 
(Oh,  my  father  !  my  brother ! )  About  ten  o'clock  we  reached 
a  village  called  Palasnehr,  only  sixteen  miles  from  Seerproe, 
taving  been  ten  hours  on  the  way.  The  driver  succeeded  in 
making  me  understand  that  he  did  not  intend  to  go  any  fur- 
ther that  night.  I  therefore  went  to  the  bungalow,  and 
aroused  the  sleepy  khitmudgra,  (butler,)  "  What  can  I  get  for 
supper  ?  I  asked.  "  Kuch  na^^  (nothing).  So  I  took  a  carpet- 
bag for  a  pillow,  lay  down  on  the  bare  bedstead,  and  slept 
soundly  until  morning.  "  Can  you  get  me  any  thmg  foi 
breakfast?  "  I  asked  again.  ^^ Kuch  na^  And  the  banghy- 
cart  being  ready,  I  went  away  hungry  from  Palasnehr. 

The  road  was  a  little  better,  but  as  we  travelled  on  a  trot 
instead  of  a  walk,  the  cart  lost  nothing  of  its  roughness, 
which,  indeed,  was  rather  increased.  The  labor  of  holding  on 
taxfcd  me  sorely,  and  as  there  was  no  relaxation,  except  when 
we  stopped  to  change  horses,  the  muscles  of  my  arms  and  legs 
at  last  became  so  exhiusted  that  I  was  ready  to  double  up  and 


IKDIAN    HORSES    AND    DRIVERS  8) 

sink  together  in  a  heap.  My  wrists  and  ankles  were  swollen  foi 
several  days  afterwards,  from  the  effects  of  that  ride.  Tht 
horses  and  drivers  on  this  part  of  the  road  are  probably  the 
worst  in  the  world.  The  driver's  knowledge  is  confined  to  hold- 
ing the  reins,  and  even  this  he  understands  very  imperfectly. 
Instead  of  choosing  the  smoothest  part  of  the  road  he  takes  the 
roughest,  and  if  a  stone  is  to  be  seen,  his  satisfaction  is  not 
complete  unless  the  cart  runs  over  it.  He  frequently  swerves 
'30me  distance  from  the  direct  track  to  eff'ect  this  object.  Aa 
for  the  horse,  he  is  the  master,  and  if  any  exertion  is  neces- 
sary you  may  possibly  flatter  but  cannot  force  him  into  it. 
When  first  harnessed  he  never  starts  of  his  own  accord.  One 
groom  stands  at  his  head  patting  and  coaxing,  while  two 
others  push  at  the  wheels  until  they  press  him  forward.  He 
then  backs,  and  sometimes  sits  down  on  his  haunches.  More 
force  is  put  to  the  wheels,  until  backing  becomes  a  labor  to 
him,  and  then  he  goes  forward  as  long  as  the  road  is  level. 
But  by  and  by  you  come  to  a  slight  ascent.  He  knows 
already  where  it  is,  and  unless  you  keep  him  on  a  gallop  he 
stops  at  the  bottom.  The  groom  jumps  down  and  runs  to  his 
head.  "  Tab  di  "  (pat  him),  says  the  driver,  and  while  the 
former  pats  him  on  the  neck,  the  latter  cries  out  in  most  en- 
dearing tones :  "  Oh,  my  father,  my  brother,  my  bully,  my 
brave  fellow  !"  Thus  encouraged  he  makes  a  start,  and  gets 
about  half  way  up  the  rise,  when  he  stops  and  leisurely  backfl 
dcwn  again  to  the  bottom.  This  is  repeated  three  or  four 
times,  and  finally  some  of  the  buUocli-drivers  are  called  on  tc 
assist  They  lay  hold  on  the  wheels,  and  the  horse,  instead 
Df  drawing  up  the  cart,  is  himself  pushed  up  with  it.  On  one 
pccasion,  where  there  was  a  rise  of  about  one  foot  in  ten  for  a 
4* 


g2  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

hundred  yards,  I  was  obliged  to  wait  an  hour  and  a  half  be 
fore  we  succeeded  in  passing. 

Soon  after  leaving  Palasnehr,  the  road  crossed  the  Sind- 
wah  Grhaut,  a  range  of  hills  about  six  miles  in  breadth  and 
severed  with  jungle.  Beyond  them  opened  the  valley  of  the 
Nerbudda;  the  Vindhya  Mountains,  on  the  opposite  side, 
though  fifty  miles  distant,  were  dimly  visible.  Between  lay  a 
wild  waste  of  jungle,  almost  uninhabited,  a  reservoir  of 
deadly  malaria  and  a  paradise  for  panthers  and  tigers.  The 
word  "jungle,"  I  should  explain,  is  used  to  express  any  kind 
of  wild  growth,  from  a  thicket  to  a  forest,  whether  highland 
or  lowland.  The  diflferent  varieties  are  distinguished  as  "  close 
iungle,  thorn  jungle,  wet  jungle,"  etc.  About  Sindwah  the 
iungle  is  close,  composed  of  thick  clumps  of  shrubbery  and 
small  trees,  with  here  and  there  a  magnificent  banyan  or  pee- 
pul  tree  towering  over  it.  In  the  valley  of  the  Nerbudda  there 
are  many  banyans,  and  some  of  great  size.  Few  trees  present 
grander  mas&es  of  foliage  than  this.  Instead  of  a  low  roof 
of  boughs,  resting  on  its  pillared  trunks,  as  I  had  supposed,  it 
sends  up  great  limbs  to  the  height  of  a  hundred,  or  even  a 
hundred  and  fifty  feet,  and  the  new  trunks  are  often  dropped 
from  boughs  thirty  feet  high.  They  hang  like  parcels  of 
roots  from  the  ends  of  the  boughs,  and  when  broken  ofi"  and 
{)revented  from  reaching  the  earth,  continue  to  increase  and 
become  woody  like  the  trunk.  I  have  seen  a  tree  on  wbich 
huge  half-trunks,  that  had  never  reached  the  earth,  hung 
from  the  branches,  like  the  fragments  of  shattered  pillars, 
hanging  from  the  roof  of  an  Egyptian  rock-temple.  Thfi 
leaves  ot  the  banyan  are  large,  glossy  and  dark-green,  and  ii 


THE    TAMARIND    TREE.  8f. 

the  winter  the  foliage  is  studded  with  buds  of  a  bright  purple 
color. 

The  only  other  large  trees  that  I  remarked,  were  the 
sycamore  (peepul)  and  the  tamarind.  The  acacia  and  mimofsa 
are  occasionally  met  with,  and  the  date  and  brab  palms  thrive 
in  the  valleys.  The  tamarind  frequently  rivals  the  banyan  in 
size,  while  its  foliage  is  wonderfully  graceful  and  delicate. 
The  leaflets  of  its  slender  pinnate  leaves  are  so  small,  that  the 
Koran  could  not  more  forcibly  describe  the  torments  of  the 
Mahometan  Hell,  than  when  it  says  that  the  sinners  in  the 
nether  fires  shall  receive,  to  cool  their  thirst,  just  so  much 
water  as  will  lie  on  one  of  these  leaflets,  once  in  a  thousand 
years.  Of  the  smaller  trees  and  shrubs,  there  is  a  great  va- 
riety, but  the  tamarind  and  banyan  are  the  characteristic  trees 
of  India,  as  the  palm  is  of  Egypt,  and  the  magnolia  and  cy- 
press of  our  Southern  States. 

From  Dhoolia  to  the  Nerbudda,  my  road  was  through  the 
District  of  Candeish,  which,  two  or  three  weeks  previous,  was 
the  subject  of  general  attention,  on  account  of  the  rising  of 
the  natives.  The  disturbance  had  been  quelled,  but  if  I  had 
not  had  such  confidence  in  the  potency  of  English  rule,  I 
should  have  felt  that  I  was  exposed  to  some  danger.  We  met 
continually  with  companies  of  armed  natives — not  the  mild, 
abject  inhabitants  of  the  cultivated  districts,  but  the  tall, 
fierce  sons  of  the  jungle — men  with  keen  eyes,  heavy  black 
beards,  and  a  striking  expression  of  courage  and  defiance  iD 
their  whole  bearing.  They  did  not  stoop  and  touch  the  earth 
\n  humble  salutation,  as  I  passed,  but  looked  me  full  in  the 
feice,  without  a  single  word  of  greeting.  Some  were  armed 
with  the  long  Bedouin  guns,  some  with  spears,  and  all  wore  sa 


S4  INDIA)    CmiirA,    AND    JAPAN. 

bres.  They  were  nearly  all  on  foot,  but  a  few,  who  seemed 
to  be  men  of  authority,  rode  on  ponies.  I  should  judge  they 
were  mostly  Mahometans,  from  their  turbans,  and  from  the 
cast  of  their  features.  It  is  very  easy  to  distinguish  between 
the  followers  of  the  rival  religions,  without  reference  to  any 
distinguishing  mark  of  dress,  and  merely  from  the  expression 
of  the  face. 

We  constantly  met  long  trains  of  laden  bullocks  and  witl 
numbers  of  hackrees,  or  native  ox-carts.  Many  of  the  trains 
were  accompanied  by  cheprasses,  or  Government  servant, 
(distinguished  by  a  band  over  the  shoulders  with  an  inscribed 
brass  plate  upon  it),  and  by  sepoys.  In  all  my  life  I  never 
received  half  the  number  of  military  salutations,  as  during 
this  journey.  Of  course  I  was  in  the  East  India  Company's 
service,  for  nobody  else  travels  there;  my  brown  face  showed 
that  I  had  been  a  long  time  in  the  country,  and  my  habit  of 
never  expressing  astonishment,  when  among  a  strange  people, 
was  sufficient,  in  spite  of  my  ignorance  of  the  language,  to 
certify  to  the  fact.  Every  sepoy  drew  himself  up,  faced  right 
about,  gave  his  right  arm  a  wide  sweep  and  brought  his  hand 
to  his  cap.  I  made  an  officer's  response,  of  course,  but 
merely  gave  a  slight  nod  to  the  salutations  of  the  peasants, 
though  they  sometimes  almost  prostrated  themselves  before 
me.  Near  Sindwah  we  passed  a  small  village,  where  all  the 
male  inhabitants  rushed  out  of  their  houses,  ranged  them- 
jelves  in  a  row  beside  the  road,  with  the  elder  or  chief  at 
their  head,  and  successively  touched  the  dust  and  their  fore 
heads.  It  is  not  to  be  inferred  that  these  humiliating  tokens 
of  reverence  and  submission  to  the  English  power  have  been 
forced  upon  the  people.     They  learned  submission  long  ago 


t)E5ERTED    DISTRICTS.  85 

it  is  natural  to  them.  The  Indian  servant  not  only  calls  yon 
his  father,  but  his  King  and  his  God,  and  when  he  wants  to 
ask  you  a  special  favor,  comes  to  you  with  a  bunch  of  grass  in 
his  mouth,  saying  he  is  your  beast. 

During  the  forenoon  we  passed  Sindwah,  a  miserable  vil- 
age  at  present,  though  once  a  place  of  some  importance,  as  its 
massive  fortress  testifies.  There  is  some  cultivation  near  it, 
but  the  country  shows  marks  of  neglect  and  decay.  I  was  old 
that  a  large  part  of  Candeish,  which  is  now  waste  jungle,  was 
a  flourishing  and  well-populated  region  fifty  years  ago.  I 
could  at  first  find  no  adequate  reason  for  these  tokens  of 
decay ;  but  I  believe  that,  in  most  instances,  they  are  owing 
to  a  superstition  of  the  natives,  which  prevents  them  from  in- 
habiting lands  belonging  to  families  that  have  become  ex- 
tinct. They  believe  that  the  spirits  of  the  former  owners  lin- 
ger upon  the  soil,  and  would  visit  them  with  calamity,  or 
death,  if  they  persisted  in  remaining. 

All  the  rest  of  the  day,  and  part  of  the  night,  we  jolted 
on  through  the  lonely  jungles.  T  was  in  great  hopes  of  seeing 
a  tiger  spring  across  the  road,  but  had  no  such  luck.  Al- 
though the  ground  was  baked  hard  and  dry,  there  was  still  aD 
exhalation  from  it,  as  my  shadow  appeared  with  a  slight  halo 
around  it,  such  as  one  sees  on  a  summer  morning,  when  the 
dew  begins  to  dry.  I  sufi"ered  with  a  dull  headache  all  day, 
but  the  rough  road  might  account  for  this.  Towards  mid- 
night we  reached  Akbarpore,  on  the  Nerbudda,  having  made 
fifty-four  miles.  I  was  too  sore  to  wait  for  supper,  but  went 
to  sleep  at  once,  after  ordering  breakfast  at  sunrise,  when  the 
cart  was  to  be  ready  again  Sunrise  came,  and  eight  o'clock, 
but  neither  cart   nor  breakfast.     At  Inst  the  driver  appeared 


86  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN 

and  made  me  a  number  of  remarks  for  which  (in  my  igno 
ranee  of  the  language)  I  was  none  the  wiser  ''  Is  the  carl 
ready  yet  ?  "  I  asked.  "  Yes,  it  is  ready,  but  "^ — and  here  m^ 
comprehension  ceased  A  horrid  suspicion  flashed  througt 
my  mind  :  "  Is  it  gone  ?  "  "  Yes,  it  is  gone,  but " — and  he  be 
came  unintelligible  again  "  Is  there  no  cart  ?  "  again  I  asked 
"  Yes,  there's  a  cart,  but  " —  That  dreadful  "  but "  com- 
pletely floored  me.  I  went  into  the  kitchen,  took  the  half- 
cooked  breakfast  from  the  fire,  and  hurriedly  ate  it,  for  I  had 
lived  on  biscuits  for  two  days.  I  then  went  directly  to  the 
post-station,  but  there  was  no  cart  there.  The  people  made 
many  observations,  but  all  availed  nothing,  till  at  last  one  of 
them  rose  and  beckoned  me  to  follow  him.  We  went  down  to 
the  Nerbudda,  which  is  a  beautiful  river,  a  third  of  a  mile 
wide,  crossed  the  ferry,  and  behold !  there  stood  a  new  cart, 
and  there  lay  a  new  driver,  asleep  in  the  sun ! 

The  road  was  tolerable,  I  could  now  sit  without  holding 
on,  and  thus  the  journey  became  pleasant  again.  The  valley 
of  the  Nerbudda  is  very  rich  and  fertile,  the  soil  resembling 
the  black  loam  of  Egy|3t.  We  passed  many  fields  of  flax, 
covered  with  blue  and  white  flowers ;  wheat,  cotton,  tobacco 
and  poppies,  besides  small  patches  of  sugar-cane.  All  seemed 
to  thrive  equally  well.  But  a  small  proportion  of  the  soil  is 
cultivated,  and  it  is  no  exaggeration  to  say,  that  the  valley 
might  be  made  to  support  a  hundredfold  its  present  popula- 
tion We  now  approached  the  picturesque  Vindhya  Moun- 
tains, one  of  the  summits  of  which  was  crowned  with  a  white 
building — the  tomb  of  a  Moslem  Saint,  as  well  as  I  could 
•inderstand  the  driver.  The  road  passes  the  mountains,  at  a 
place  formerly  called   Ghara,   but  now   Kintrey's  Ghaut,  it 


ARRIVAL    AT    INDORE.  8? 

honor  of  the  engineer.  It  is,  indeed,  admirably  planned, 
though  somewhat  out  of  repair.  The  summit,  which  sepa- 
rates the  waters  of  the  two  sides  of  India,  overlooks  a  waste 
and  bleak  country.  Soon  after  descending  the  northern  side, 
we  crossed  the  head-waters  of  the  Chumbul,  the  largesi 
affluent  of  the  Jumna.  At  eight  o'clock  I  reached  the  military 
station  of  Mhow,  within  fourteen  miles  of  Indore,  and  was  so 
well  satisfied  that  I  allowed  the  driver  to  stop  for  the  night. 

Mhow  is  a  handsome  station,  the  officers'  bungalows,  sur 
rounded  with  small  gardens,  being  scattered  over  an  extent 
of  two  miles.  It  stands  on  a  dry  plain,  2,000  feet  above  the 
sea,  and  is  considered  a  very  healthy  place  of  residence. 
The  highest  point  is  crowned  by  a  large  white  church,  the 
spire  of  which  may  be  seen  for  some  distance.  The  place  is 
included  within  the  limits  of  the  Madras  Presidency.  I  had 
only  a  passing  glimpse  of  the  town,  as  I  left  early  next  morn- 
ing. A  drive  of  two  hours,  over  a  good  road  and  through  a 
rolling  upland  country^  devoted  to  the  opium  culture,  brought 
me  to  Indore,  and  I  bade  adieu  to  the  banghy-cart,  hoping  I 
might  see  no  more  of  it.  The  journey  from  Bombay  occu- 
pied six  days  and  a  half,  and  I  accomplished  it  with  less  fa- 
tigue, though  with  more  bruises  than  I  expected. 

Indore  is  the  capital  of  an  independent  State,  and  the 
station  of  an  English  "Resident" — an  office  which  is  equiva- 
Wnt  to  that  of  an  Envoy  or  Ambassador,  except  that  the 
Resident  meddles  rather  more  in  the  affairs  of  the  State  to 
«7hich  he  is  accredited.  Mr.  Hamilton,  the  Resident  at  In- 
dore, was  absent  on  a  journey,  but  I  was  most  kindly  received 
by  Dr.  Impey,  the  Residency  Surgeon,  to  whom  I  had  a  let 
tor.     With  true  Indian  hospitality,  he  tooi  me  at  once  to  hit 


88  INDIA,    CHINAj     4.ND    JAPAN. 

house,  where  both  he  and  his  amiable  lady  did  their  utmost  U 
make  my  sojourn  agreeable. 

Indore  is  a  town  of  about  60,000  inhabitants,  having  beea 
much  increased  within  a  few  years  by  the  tyranny  of  the 
Begum  of  Oodjein,  a  holy  old  city  about  eighty  miles  distant 
many  of  the  inhabitants  of  which  have  emigrated  to  the  former 
place.  Portions  of  Indore  are  well  built,  reminding  me 
somewhat  of  Konia,  and  other  places  in  the  interior  of  Asia 
Minor.  The  houses  are  generally  of  wood,  two  stories  high, 
the  upper  story  projecting  and  resting  on  pillars,  so  as  to  form 
a  verandah  below.  The  pillars  and  the  heavy  cornice  above 
them  are  of  dark  wood,  and  very  elaborately  carved.  In  the 
centre  of  the  town  is  the  Rajah's  palace,  fronting  a  small 
square.  It  is  a  quadrangle  of  about  four  hundred  feet  to  a 
side,  the  portion  over  the  main  gateway  rising  to  the  height 
of  eighty  or  ninety  feet,  and  visible  for  many  miles  around. 
The  architecture  is  Saracenic,  though  not  of  a  pure  style 
The  gateway,  however,  and  the  balconies  over  it,  are  very  ele- 
gant, and  the  main  court,  surrounded  by  i,  fty  pillars  of  dark 
wood,  connected  by  ornate  horseshoe  arches,  has  a  fine  efi"ect. 
The  outer  walls  are  covered  with  pictures  of  elephants, 
horses,  tigers,  Englishmen  and  natives,  drawn  and  colored 
with  the  most  complete  disregard  of  nature. 

On  our  way  to  the  town  one  evening,  we  met  the  Rajal 
and  his  suite,  just  setting  out  on  an  excursion  into  the  coun 
try.  He  was  attended  by  a  large  retinue  of  persons,  soldiers 
dressed  in  the  European  style,  officials  in  gaudy  dresses  hold 
ing  spears  and  flags,  and  all  the  paraphernalia  of  a  pettj 
prince.  He  is  very  fond  of  display,  but  I  must  confess  thai 
the  whole  show  was  rather  picturesque  than  imposing.     I  hac 


THE    RAJAH    OF    INDOEB.  89 

a  good  riow  of  the  Rajah,  who  was  a  young  man  of  about 
twenty,  tall  and  stout  for  his  age,  and  with  a  good  humored 
though  not  remarkably  intelligent  face.  He  wore  a  crimsoD 
robe,  and  a  rich  silken  turban,  studded  with  jewels.  His 
story  is  quite  romantic.  Twelve  years  ago  he  was  a  poor 
shepherd  boy  in  the  neighborhood  of  Mhow.  The  former 
Rajah,  Hurry  Rao  Holkar,  having  died  childless,  and  without 
any  near  relatives,  the  State  might  have  readily  fallen  into 
the  possession  of  the  East  India  Company.  Instead  of  tak- 
ing it,  however,  search  was  made  for  a  successor,  and  the  poor 
shepherd  boy  was  found  to  belong  to  a  remote  branch  of  the 
family.  He  was  thereupon  invested  with  the  Rajahship,  and 
Mr.  Hamilton,  the  Resident,  was  appointed  Regent  during 
his  minority. 

Notwithstanding  he  was  educated  under  English  auspices, 
the  Rajah  did  not  seem  to  have  acquired  any  English  ideas, 
except  a  taste  for  horses  and  hunting.  The  only  public 
works  of  his  which  were  pointed  out  to  me,  were  a  small  hos- 
pital and  school,  and  a  bridge  across  the  river,  or  rather 
ravine,  on  which  Indore  is  built.  The  latter  was  a  very 
substantial  structure,  of  hewn  stone,  and  cost  upwards  of 
$100,000.  The  finest  thing  I  saw  in  the  place  was  a  well,  built 
by  one  of  the  former  Rajahs.  It  was  a  large  square  shaft,  about 
forty  feet  deep,  with  a  broad  flight  of  steps  leading  down  to 
the  water,  and  cool  chambers  and  balconies  of  hewn  stone,  for 
recreation  during  the  hot  weather. 

In  riding  through  and  around  the  town,  I  was  struck  with 
the  number  of  small  Hindoo  temples.  The  principal  temple  i« 
adjacent  to  the  Rajah's  palace ;  but  as  Europeans  are  not  al 
lowed  to  enter,  I  saw  only  the  outside.     In  the  suburbs,  how 


90  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN 

ever,  there  are  msmy  sanctuaries  erected  to  the  different  gods 
the  most  of  them  being  open  canopies  or  domes,  resting  on  pil 
lars,  and  none  above  twenty  feet  in  height.  The  idols  are  gen- 
erally smeared  with  red  paint,  a  token  that  they  have  recently 
been  worshipped.  There  were  multitudes  of  beggars,  some  of 
whom  asked  for  alms  in  the  name  of  Vishnu,  and  others  in 
the  name  of  Allah,  the  latter  being  Mussulmen.  In  one 
street  we  passed  a  house  where  the  piercing  shrieks  of  a  fife 
and  the  dreadful  clatter  of  a  drum  announced  a  marriage  fes- 
tival, and  not  far  off,  two  women,  seated  in  front  of  a  door, 
howled  incessant  lamentation  for  a  corpse  within :  Destruc- 
tion and  Reproduction,  both  the  attributes  of  the  god  Shiva, 
Ln  whose  name  a  beggar  at  that  very  instant  demanded  char- 
ity. 

There  is  a  picturesque  orchard  of  mango  and  date  trees 
on  the  eastern  side  of  the  town,  but  the  soil  is  too  thin  on 
the  uplands  around  it  to  sm|)port  much  vegetation.  The  gar- 
den of  the  Resident  is  artificially  made.  His  residence, 
which  I  visited,  is  a  stately  stone  mansion,  with  large  and 
lofty  rooms,  furnished  in  superb  style.  He  maintains  a  great 
state,  which  he  may  well  do  on  a  salary  of  £4,000  a  year,  in 
a  country  where  labor  and  the  ordinary  necessaries  of  life 
cost  next  to  nothing.  The  wages  of  a  field-laborer  here  are 
two  annas  (six  cents)  a  day,  he  finding  his  own  food.  Women 
receive  one  and  a  half  annas,  and  boys  one  anna  daily. 
House  servants  are  better  paid,  as  they  are  obliged  to  wear 
rather  more  garments,  but,  as  each  has  his  particular  busi- 
ness, eight  or  ten  are  required  to  do  the  work  of  a  smali 
family. 

I  found  the  weather  unpleasantly  cold,  coming  from  thi 


COLD    WEATHER. 


9 


latitude  of  Bombay.  During  the  nights  the  temperat  ire  waf 
BO  low  that  thin  cakse  of  ice  frequently  formed  on  shallow? 
pools.  From  the  supplies  thus  collected,  the  English  resi 
dents  are  furnished  with  ice  during  a  part  of  the  hot  season. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE      MAI  L-C  A  R  T. 

rhe  Mail-Cart— Setting  out  from  Indore— Night  Travel— Stupidity  of  the  Natl  eft- 
Mussulmen— Nearly  an  Accident— Scenery  of  the  Road— A  Polite  Engliehn-an— 
Miseries  of  the  Journey — A  Tiger  Party— Budjrungurh—Ooonah — A  Free  Use  ol 
Hospitality— The  Tliugs  and  Robbers— Second  Halt— Miss  Bnrrongha — Going  On— 
Tlie  Plain  of  Hindostan— Approach  lo  Agra— A  Landmark- 

At  sunset  on  the  1 1th  of  January,  I  took  leave  of  my  hos 
pitable  hosts  at  Indore,  and  again  ventured  upon  unknown 
seas.  I  had  taken  passage  for  Agra  in  the  mail-cart,  a  ve- 
hicle precisely  resembling  the  banghy  cart,  but  with  the  ad- 
vantage of  greater  speed.  The  distance  to  be  travelled  was 
380  miles,  and  the  fare  50  rupees,  which  is  considered  very 
cheap  in  India,  but  would  be  very  dear  in  any  other  country. 
The  average  rate  of  speed  is  from  eight  to  nine  miles  an  hour, 
BO  that  the  mail  reaches  Agra  in  a  little  more  than  two  days 
from  Indore;  but  as  few  mortal  frames  would  be  equal  to 
such  work,  travellers  are  allowed  to  make  the  journey  in  sev- 
eral stages,  by  stopping  at  any  of  the  dawk  bungalows  od 
the  road  and  waiting  for  the  next  day's  mail. 

The  mail  cart  is  propelled  by  two  horses,  one  of  which  in 
an  outrigger.     This  facilitates  the  ascent  of  slight  elevation-i 


NIGHT    TRAVEL.  93 

in  the  road,  except  when  the  two  animals  choose  to  move  it 
different  directions,  which  is  by  no  means  a  rare  occurrence. 
However,  I  found  that  I  could  retain  my  position  on  the  boi 
without  holding  fast  with  both  hands,  and  this  was  a  great 
improvement  on  the  banghy  cart.  We  set  off  at  a  full  gallop, 
over  a  hard,  well  beaten  road,  and  through  a  rolling,  open 
country.  The  twilight  died  away  and  the  young  moon  went 
down  before  we  reached  Dewas,  twenty-four  miles  from  In- 
iore,  and  thenceforth  we  galloped  by  starlight.  Ever  the 
Bame  rolling  upland,  thinly  inhabited  and  scantily  cultivated ; 
broad  belts  of  jungle,  more  dreary  and  stunted  than  in  the 
regions  south  of  the  Nerbudda,  and  crossed  by  frequent 
abrupt  nullas.  Occasionally  we  passed  low  ranges  of  stony 
hills,  where  the  rate  of  our  speed  caused  a  most  intolerable 
jolting.  The  native  villages,  slumbering  under  the  broad 
arms  of  peepul  and  banyan  trees,  were  picturesque  enough  in 
the  gloom,  which  hid  their  dirt  and  deformity,  while  the  gro- 
tesque cones  of  their  temples  were  the  only  objects  that 
showed  with  any  distinctness.  The  silent  driver  always  blew 
a  discordant  blast  on  his  horn  while  passing  through  these 
villages,  and  on  approaching  the  post-stations,  which  are  from 
five  to  seven  miles  apart.  We  always  found  a  few  sleepy 
grooms  in  waiting  with  the  fresh  horses,  which  were  slowly 
harnessed  to  our  cart,  and  after  going  through  their  exercise 
of  backing  and  rearing,  sprang  forward  with  a  galvanic  start, 
and  an  impetus  which  did  not  cease  until  we  rew  up  at  the 
next  post. 

Thus  the  night  wore  away.  My  only  amusement  was  Id 
watching  the  Great  Bear,  as  he  slowly  wheeled  around  the 
pole  star,   for    in   ray   previous    watches   I    had    learned   tc 


IHDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 


measure  the  nours  of  the  night  by  his  progress.  The  drivei 
now  and  then  made  a  remark,  very  profound,  no  doubt,  if  ] 
had  understood  it  I  always  assented,  to  avoid  discussion, 
which  would  have  been  embarrassing,  and  if  he  addressed 
a  question  to  me,  invariably  answered :  "  I  don't  know.'' 
There  is  no  use  in  telling  these  people  that  you  don't  under- 
stand their  language,  for  they  jabber  away  to  you  just  the 
same  as  ever.  It  is  much  better  to  make  a  short  and  despotic 
use  of  the  few  words  you  know,  and  restrict  the  conversation 
to  those  remarks  which  are  indispensable.  As  we  proceeded 
northward,  I  noticed  that  Arabic  words  were  frequently  used. 
The  form  of  salutation  was  the  usual  "  salaam  aleikoom"  of 
the  East,  and  the  driver  exclaimed,  each  time  that  he  mounted 
the  cart:  "in  the  name  of  the  most  merciful  God."  In  ad- 
dition to  this,  he  frequently  touched  the  rim  of  the  wheel  and 
his  forehead  alternately  several  times  with  his  fore-finger — pro- 
bably as  a  charm  to  prevent  accidents,  and  I  devoutly  hoped 
it  might  be  efficacious,  for  we  had  no  other  safeguard.  Had 
the  axle  snapped,  as  in  the  case  of  the  banghy-cart,  I  should 
DOt  have  gotten  off  so  easily. 

When  morning  came,  there  was  so  little  change  in  the 
features  of  the  landscape  that  I  could  have  believed  myself 
it  ill  in  sight  of  Indore,  and  yet  we  had  made  more  than  a 
hundred  miles  during  the  night.  I  was  quite  benumbed 
from  the  coldness  of  the  air,  and  began  to  feel  the  effects  of 
the  jolts  I  had  undergone.  Soon  after  sunrise  the  driver  dis* 
covered  that  one  of  the  linch-pins  was  broken  off,  so  that  the 
wheel  kept  its  place  from  mere  force  of  habit.  He  asked  me 
whether  he  should  proceed,  but  as  I  knew  he  ouly  put  the 
question  for  form's  sake,  since  the  mail  could  not  be  detained 


BCENEEY    OF    THE    ROAD.  9£ 

I  told  him  to  drive  on,  which  he  did,  "  in  the  name  of  the 
most  merciful  God."  Our  speed,  after  this,  was  more  furioui 
than  before,  and  a  mad  gallop  of  six  miles,  during  which  I 
constantly  kept  myself  braced  in  an  attitude  to  spring  out; 
brought  us  to  the  next  post,  where  we  were  fortunate  enough 
to  find  a  substitute  for  the  pin.  During  the  day  we  passed 
two  mail-carts,  lying  by  the  road-side,  with  their  axles  broken 

Nothing  could  exceed  the  monotony  of  the  scenery,  which 
while  the  dry  season  lasts,  wears  a  bleak  and  desolate  aspect. 
During  the  rains,  when  the  soil  is  hidden  under  a  deluge  of 
borbage,  and  the  ragged  shrubbery  of  the  jungles  starts  intc 
now  bloom  and  foliage,  it  must  present  a  very  different 
appearance.  Except  in  the  sheltered  hollows,  where  the 
palm  still  flourished,  there  was  no  token  of  a  tropical  climate. 
I  found  more  interest  in  observing  the  crowds  of  natives  whom 
we  met  on  the  road.  In  addition  to  the  different  Indian  races, 
who  had  now  become  tolerably  familiar  to  me,  there  were  oc- 
casionally men  of  taller  stature,  lighter  complexion,  and  a 
bold,  unsubmissive^  expression  of  face,  whom  I  took  to  be 
Sikhs  or  Affghans 

About  noon  we  reached  a  place  called  Bursud,  where  there 
was  a  traveller's  bungalow,  occupied  by  an  English  family.  A 
lady  was  standing  in  the  verandah,  and  I  took  off  my  hat  to  her 
as  we  passed.  Politeness  is  its  own  reward,  for  no  sooner  had 
we  stopped  to  change  horses,  than  the  lady's  husband  made  hia 
appearance,  and  very  politely  asked  me  to  take  some  refresh 
ments.  The  invitation  was  timely,  for  the  appetite  of  a  hun 
gry  man  is  not  satisfied  with  biscuits  (which  was  all  my  store), 
but  I  had  determined  to  reach  Goonah,  half-way  to  Agra,  be 
tore  resting,  and  could   not  detain   the  mail.     I  only  men 


96  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

tion  the  circumstance  as  another  instance  of  the  hospitalitj 
of  the  Englisli  in  India. 

By  this  time  I  was  in  that  feverish  and  excitable  condition 
^hioh  shows  that  one's  powers  of  endurance  are  beginning  to 
give  way.  I  was  bruised  and  shaken  from  head  to  foot 
racked  with  aches  and  pains,  and  above  all  exquisitely  tor 
tured  by  a  small  iron  rod  which  ran  around  the  box  whereon 
we  sat,  to  prevent  our  being  thrown  into  the  road.  The  mark 
of  that  rod  was  imprinted  on  my  flesh  for  days  afterwards 
During  the  afternoon  we  came  into  a  hilly  country  where 
the  road  was  a  little  better,  and  I  experienced  some  relief 
The  hills  were  covered  with  jungle,  but  there  was  cultivation 
in  the  valleys  between,  especially  about  the  little  town  of  Ra- 
googurh,  which  is  the  residence  of  a  Rajah.  It  is  a  walled 
town  of  rectangular  form,  with  round  towers  at  the  corners, 
but  the  walls  have  tumbled  down  in  various  places,  making 
unsightly  breaches  and  disclosing  the  poverty  of  the  dwell iugg 
within. 

A  short  distance  further  we  overtook  a  large  concourse  of 
natives,  all  of  whom  carried  long  bamboo  poles  in  their  hands 
A.mong  them  were  several  cheprassees,  or  Government  s.r 
vants,  and  two  or  three  sepoys.  They  all  drew  up  in  a  line 
on  each  side  of  the  road,  making  the  most  profound  salaams 
as  I  passed  between  their  ranks.  I  was  at  a  loss  to  understand 
this  display  until,  at  the  end  of  the  concourse,  I  came  upon  a 
magnificent  elephant  (the  largest  I  ever  saw),  when  I  <lecided 
that  these  must  be  the  attendants  of  the  Rajah  of  Ragoo- 
gurh.  The  whole  thing  was  explained,  however,  by  the  ap' 
pearance  of  two  English  gentlemen  and  some  attendants  car 
rying  a  wild  boar.     They  had  been  out  tiger  hunting,  and  th( 


A    TIGER-HUNTER BUDJRDNGURGH.  9l 

crowd  of  natives  with  bamboos  were  tbe  "  beaters,"  who  are 
employed  in  India,  instead  of  dogs,  to  sweep  the  jungles  and 
start  the  beasts  from  their  coverts.  One  of  the  gentlemen. 
I  afterwards  learned,  was  one  of  the  most  noted  tiger  slayer? 
in  the  country,  and  had  just  recovered  from  being  dreadfully 
mangled  by  a  panther,  an  accident  which  had  lamed  him  for 
life.  He  had  suffered  fever,  lockjaw,  paralysis  and  partial 
mortification,  yet  outlived  them  all,  to  the  amazement  of 
every  body  and  the  dismay  of  the  tigers. 

At  the  mouth  of  a  wide  bay  formed  by  the  hills  is  the 
town  of  Budjrungurli,  which,  according  to  an  itinerary  of  the 
road,  is  the  residence  of  one  of  Scindiah's  pundits;  so  that. 
if  I  had  not  the  satisfaction  of  beholding  a  learned  Pundit,  I 
at  least  saw  his  habitation.  The  town  is  perched  on  a  tongue 
of  land  which  shoots  out  from  the  hills,  dropping  into  a  preci- 
pice of  naked  red  rock  on  three  sides.  With  its  tottering 
w^alls,  and  the  tall,  parabolic  domes  of  a  cluster  of  temples 
on  the  plain  below,  it  made  a  striking  picture  in  passing. 
There  was  now  but  one  more  stage  to  Goonah,  and  after  pass- 
ing the  shoulder  of  the  hill  beyond  Budjrungurh,  I  saw  in 
the  distance  the  goal  for  which  I  had  been  so  ardently  long- 
ing. Its  thatched  houses,  half  hidden  in  groves  of  tamarind 
and  date-palm,  beckoned  to  me  across  a  broad  plain  of  wheat 
and  poppies,  which  basked  in  the  warm  light  of  the  descend- 
ing sun.  In  half  an  hour  I  dismounted  in  the  bazaar,  having 
travelled  185  miles  in  less  than  twenty-four  hours. 

Tbe  traveller's  bungalow  was  occupied  by  an  invalided 

ofi&cer,  who  had  charge  of  kee;  ing  the  post-stationb  in  order. 

There  was  a  spare  room,  which  I  at  once  appropriated,  and 

throwing  myself  upon  the  bare  charpoy  oedstead,  fell  asleep 

5 


98  IXDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN 

I  was  aronsed  by  a  native,  whom  I  took  to  be  the  khitmudgai 
of  the  bungalow,  and  who  delivered  himself  of  several  unin 
telligible  sentences.  I  thereupon  went  to  the  officer's  room 
and  wit) I  an  apology  for  my  intrusion,  begged  him  to  interpret 
for  me.  "  Why,"  said  the  captain,  "  he  says  you  have  only  to 
order  what  you  like  for  dinner — beef-steak,  mutton  chops, 
sherry,  brandy  or  beer."  Here  is  truly  a  model  bungalow 
I  thought.  "  Will  you  tell  him,"  I  asked,  "  to  get  me  the 
best  dinner  he  can,  and  a  bottle  of  beer,  as  soon  as  possible?" 
"  The  dinner  is  ready,"  said  the  servant ;  which  means  that 
you  will  get  it  in  three  hours,  and  in  just  that  time  it  was 
brought  to  me.  But  the  next  day  I  discovered,  accidentally, 
that  the  man  I  had  taken  for  the  khitmudgar  was  the  cap- 
tain's own  servant,  and  that  the  worthy  officer  had  simply  trans- 
lated his  own  hospitable  message  to  me ! 

An  English  Lieutenant,  who  was  encamped  in  the  village 
with  a  company  of  sepoys,  came  up  and  spent  the  evening 
with  me.  He  was  born  in  India,  and  I  was  the  second  Ame- 
rican he  had  ever  seen.  He  invited  me  strongly  to  stop  the 
next  evening  at  Meeana,  where  he  proposed  to  encamp,  and 
promised  to  prepare  refreshments  for  me.  He  moved  awaj 
early  in  the  morning,  and  as  I  could  not  stop  at  Meeana,  I  saw 
him  no  more.  The  mail-cart  came  along  the  next  day  about 
two  p.  M.,  and  as  I  had  spent  all  the  morning  in  sleep,  I  felt 
ready  to  undertake  the  latter  half  of  the  journey.  When  I 
called  the  true  khitmudgar,  in  order  to  pay  him  for  my  meals, 
he  declared  that  I  owed  him  nothing,  for  every  thing  had 
been  sent  to  me  by  the  "  captain-sahib."  then  went  to  the 
latter,  explained  my  mistake  and  apologized  for  my  appar 
eDt  rudeness,  f  r  any  other  course  was  out  of  the  question 


THE   THUGS.  98 

"  Pshaw  **  said  the  Captain,  bluntly  :  "don't  say  a  word  Am 
long  as  I  live  in  the  bungalow,  travellers  are  of  course  my 
guests." 

My  host,  moreover,  warned  me  against  a  frightful  nulla,  of 
gully,  in  which  the  mail-cart  was  upset  a  few  days  before,  and 
the  drivel's  thigh  broken.  Night  came  on  before  we  reached 
the  locailty,  but  though  we  crossed  a  number  of  deep  nulla?, 
I  could  not  discover  the  scene  of  the  accident.  Robbers  are 
plentiful  in  this  part  of  the  country,  and  even  the  mail-cart 
had  just  been  plundered.  All  the  region  between  Indore 
and  Agra,  was  once  noted  as  being  the  principal  haunt 
of  the  Thugs,  or  Stranglers.  The  system  is  now  almost  if 
not  wholly  extinct ;  at  least,  the  Thugs  no  longer  dare  to 
practise  their  horrid  trade  upon  Europeans.  This  is  owing  to 
the  vigorous  measures  adopted  by  the  Government,  which 
has  lately  taken  up  the  task  of  suppressing  infanticide,  and 
will,  it  is  to  be  hoped,  be  equally  successful. 

Not  to  tire  the  reader  with  too  many  details  of  my  prog- 
ress, I  will  only  state  that  about  ten  o'clock  that  evening  I 
reached  a  village  called  Tongra,  on  the  banks  of  a  small  lake, 
and  was  there  obliged  to  halt  another  day,  on  account  of  the 
seat  thence  to  Agra  having  been  previously  engaged  by  an 
English  officer.  The  rest  was  not  unwelcome,  and  the  silent  and 
attentive  khitmudgar  was  a  capital  purveyor.  On  leaving, 
I  indorsed  the  opinion  of  Miss  Burroughs,  who  wrote  in  the 
traveller's  book  that  this  was  the  only  bungalow  worthy  of 
the  name.  I  was  pleased  to  see  that  all  travellers  since  her 
time  had  done  the  same,  for  several  pages  were  thickly  stud- 
ied with:  "  Ditto  to  Miss  Burroughs." 

At   the  same  hour  on  the  following  evening  the  mail-carl 


100  INDIA,    CHINA.    AND    JAPAN. 

cauie,  and  away  we  galloped  over  rolling  uplands,  through  wastei 
of  jungle,  and  across  umberless  nullas.  Thus  the  chill,  uiicoin 
fortable  night  passed  away.  The  rising  sun  showed  a  barren 
valley,  shut  in  by  brown  hills,  covered  with  long  grass  and 
and.  Climbing  out  of  this  valley  upon  a  bleak  eminence,  1 
saw  like  a  boundless  sea  before  me,  the  great  Plain  of  Hin- 
dostan — that  vast,  alluvial  level,  which  extends  without  a 
break  from  Calcutta  to  the  Indus.  We  now  entered  on  a 
richer  and  more  cheerful  region.  The  villages  were  embow- 
ered in  tamarind  and  sycamore  trees,  and  with  the  exception 
of  occasional  belts  of  sand,  the  plain  was  well  cultivated. 
We  were  ferried  across  the  Chumbul,  the  principal  affluent  of 
the  Jumna — a  shallow  river,  nearly  half  a  mile  in  breadth,  and 
flowing  at  the  bottom  of  a  deep  bed  which  it  has  worn  for  itself 
in  the  sandy  soil. 

Passing  Dholpore,  the  residence  of  a  Rajah,  and  Jajow,  a 
picturesque  old  place,  with  a  handsome  mosque  and  serai,  we 
rapidly  approached  Agra.  1  looked  forward  to  the  distant 
belt  of  trees  which  hid  the  city,  with  the  sensation  of  a  mab, 
who,  after  drifting  for  days  on  a  dangerous  sea,  approaches  a 
safe  harbor.  At  last,  a  snow-white  dome  stood  suddenly  on 
the  horizon,  and  I  hailed  the  renowned  Taj  Mahal,  for  I  knew 
it  could  be  none  other.  There  was  Agra,  the  City  of  AkbWj 
and  I — to  borrow  the  words  of  Eothen — I  had  lived  to  s.  jk 
%nd  I  saw  it 


CHAPTER   Vin. 

THE    CITY    O  F   AKBAR. 

Ubarabad— The  Modern  City— The  English  Cantonments -R«v.  Mr  Warren— Th« 
Fort  of  Agra— The  Jumma  Musjeed— Entering  the  Fort— Judgment-Seat  of  th< 
Emperor-The  Gates  of  Somnauth-Akbar's  Palace-Splendor  jf  its  Decorationa- 
The  Palace  of  Glass-A  Cracked  Throne— The  Pearl  Mosque-Tomb  of  Akbar,  at 
Secundra— An  Indian  Landscape-Saracenic  Art— Mission  Printing-Oface— Th« 
American  Missions-The  Agra  Jail-Dr.  Walker's  System  of  Education-Arithme- 
tic in  Chorus— Effect  of  the  System. 

Agra  is  still  called  by  the  natives  Akbarabad— the  Gty 
of  Akbar— from  the  renowned  Emperor  to  whom  it  owes  its 
origin.  All  its  former  splendor  grew  up  under  his  reign, 
and  all  its  arcliitectural  remains,  except  the  Taj  Mahal,  date 
from  his  time.  In  this  respect  it  differs  from  Delhi,  which, 
althouglx  still  called  by  the  Mohammedans  Shal.jehanabad, 
(from  Slmh  Jehan,  tlie  grandson  of  Akbar),  is  more  especially 
the  capital  of  the  Mogul  Emperors,  and  bears  the  memo- 
rials of  many  successive  reigns.  Yet  I  doubt  whether  their 
combined  feebler  lights  can  equal  the  sunlike  lustre  of  Ak- 
bar's  name,  and  whether  their  city,  with  all  its  stores  of  his- 
toric associations,  can  so  interest  and  attract  the  traveller  as 
this,  the  capital  of  the  greatest  man  who  ever  ruled  in  India 


102  INDIA,    CHINA,   AND   JAPAN. 

The  modern  city  is  not  even  the  shadow  of  the  ancient 
capital.  That  has  wholly  passed  away,  except  the  Fort — a  citj' 
it  itself — and  some  ruined  palaces  on  the  bank  of  the  Jumna. 
E^ut  for  nearly  two  miles  in  every  direction,  the  mound?,  re- 
mains of  walls  and  other  indications  of  habitations  are  abun- 
dant. Much  more  was  to  be  seen  a  few  years  ago  than  at 
present,  but  as  the  old  bricks  were  constantly  taken  to  con- 
struct new  buildings,  these  vestiges  gradually  disappeai'ed. 
The  population,  which  once  numbered  more  than  half  a  mill- 
•.on,  has  dwindled  to  about  70,000,  and  the  native  city  has 
little  more  to  interest  the  traveller  than  any  ordinary  Indian 
town — Indore,  for  instance.  There  is  one  principal  street, 
passing  through  its  whole  length  to  the  gates  of  the  Fort,  and 
in  this  are  >ituated  the  residences  of  the  w^ealthier  inhabitants, 
which  are  generally  of  brick  or  red  sandstone.  The  veran- 
dahs and  hanging  balconies,  with  their  exquisite  Saracenic 
arches,  carved  ornaments  and  stone  lattice-work,  remind  one 
of  Caiio.  The  street  is  also  a  sort  of  bazaar,  and  during  the 
day  presents  a  very  busy  and  animated  scene.  It  is  so  narrow 
that  two  vehicles  can  with  difficulty  pass,  while  all  the  other 
streets  of  the  city  are  only  attainable  by  pedestrians.  On 
the  side  facing  the  Jumna  there  are  few  striking  buildings 
except  the  Custom-House,  once  the  palace  of  a  rich  native. 
Stone  ghauts,  here  and  there,  lead  down  to  the  holy  stream, 
which  at  the  time  of  my  visit  was  so  much  diminished  by  the 
dry  season  that  it  did  not  occupy  more  than  one-third  of  its 
bed. 

South  of  the  city  are  the  cantonments,  divided  into  the 
rivil  and  military  lines,  and  occupying  a  space  of  five  miles  in 
length  by  nearly  two  in  breadth      The  bungalows  of  the  Engf 


THE    CANTONMENTS — MR.    WAJftREN.  108 

lish  residents  are  neat,  cottage-like  buildings  of  one  story, 
with  steep,  thatched  roofs.  Each  stands  in  its  cwn  "com- 
pound," or  enclosure,  so  that  the  cantonments  present  a  truly 
suburban  aspect.  Broad  roads,  as  smooth  and  hard  as  a  floor, 
run  in  all  directions,  and  offer  admirable  drives  to  the  inhabi- 
tants, whose  buggies  may  be  seen  at  all  hours  of  the  day, 
dashing  back  and  forth.  A  spacious  square,  planted  with 
young  trees,  is  called  the  Park,  and  beyond  this  rises  the  lofty 
spire  of  the  English  Church.  The  various  public  buildings 
— the  Bank,  the  Post-office,  the  Government  House,  and 
others,  are  distinguished  from  the  private  residences  by  their 
size,  but  have  little  pretension  to  architectural  beauty. 

On  entering  Agra  I  was  taken  to  the  traveller's  bungalow, 
which  stands  on  a  waste  plat  of  ground,  adjoining  the  Park. 
The  succeeding  day  was  so  cold,  dull  and  rainy,  that  I  re- 
mained indoors,  and  rested  my  shattered  frame.  Mr.  Thom- 
Bsson,  the  Governor  of  the  north-western  provinces,  to  whom 
I  had  letters,  was  absent  at  Benares,  but  I  was  most  hospi- 
tably received  by  Rev.  Mr.  Warren,  an  American  Mission- 
ary, under  whose  roof  I  sojourned  during  my  stay.  Undei- 
his  guidance,  and  that  of  Mr.  Hutton,  the  Editor  of  The 
Agra  Messenger^  I  visited  all  the  objects  of  interest  in  the 
city  and  vicinity. 

The  Fort,  which  contains  the  Palace  of  Akbar,  and  the 
celebrated  Motee  Musjeed  or  Pearl  Mosque,  is  one  of  the 
grandest  structures  of  the  kind  in  India.  It  is  about  a  mile 
and  a  half  in  circuit,  and  its  stately,  embrasured  battlement 
of  red  sandstone  are  seventy  feet  in  height.  Nothing  can  be 
more  imposing  than  the  view  of  this  immense  mass  of  masonry; 
rising  high  above  the  buildings  of  the  modern  city,  and  almost 


104  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND   JAPAN. 

overtopping  the  domes  of  the  Jumma  Musjeed  (Sunday 
mosque),  which  stands  without  its  gates.  Its  appearance,  neV 
ertheless,  is  very  deceptive  with  regard  to  its  strength,  for  (he 
walls,  impregnable  as  they  look,  are  mere  shells,  and  would 
not  stand  a  single  day's  cannonading. 

Before  entering  the  Fort,  I  visited  the  Jumma  Musjeed. 
The  front  of  the  mosque  faces  the  principal  gate,  a  broad,  en- 
closed square,  which  is  now  used  as  a  market-place,  interven- 
ing between.  The  mosque  stands  on  a  lofty  platform,  which 
is  reached  by  a  spacious  flight  of  steps.  In  India  all  places 
of  worsliip,  except  the  inner  shrines — the  holy  of  holies — 
are  open  to  the  conquerors,  who  walk  in,  booted  and  spurred, 
where  the  Hindoo  and  Moslem  put  their  shoes  from  off  their 
feet.  I  should  willingly  have  complied  with  this  form,  as  I 
did  in  other  Moslem  countries,  but  was  told  that  it  was  now 
never  expected  of  a  European,  and  would  be  in  fact  a  depre- 
ciation of  his  dignity.  The  Jumma  JNIusjeed  is  a  melancholy 
picture  of  ruin.  The  walls  which  enclose  the  fore-court  are 
tumbling  down,  and  the  inlaid  inscriptions  which  surround  the 
fa9ade  are  falling  out,  piece  by  piece.  The  body  of  the  mosque 
18  divided  into  a  central  and  two  smaller  side-halls,  each  of 
which  opens  upon  the  court-yard  by  a  lofty,  arched  portal,  and 
is  surmounted  by  a  swelling  oriental  dome,  of  corresponding 
proportions.  India  being  east  of  Mecca,  the  mosque  of 
course  occupies  the  western  side  of  the  court,  and  at  each  of 
the  adjacent  corners  rises  a  lofty  and  graceful  minaret.  This 
is  the  plan  on  which  all  Indian  mosques  are  built,  and  they  vary 
in  architectural  beauty  according  as  the  portals,  the  domes  and 
minarets  approach  a  true  artistic  proportion. 

Crossing  by  a  drawbridge  over  the  deep  moat  which  sup 


THE  JUDGMENT-SEAT   OF   AKBAR  lOfl 

rounds  the  Fort,  we  passed  through  a  massive  gateway  and 
up  a  paved  ascent  to  the  inner  entrance,  which  shows  consid- 
erable taste.  It  consists  of  two  octagonal  towers  of  red  sand- 
stone, inlaid  with  ornamental  designs  in  white  marble.  The 
passage  between  them  is  covered  by  two  domes,  which  seem 
to  rise  from  accretions  of  prismatic  stalactites,  as  in  the 
domes  of  the  Moorish  Alhambra.  This  elegant  portal,  how- 
ever, instead  of  opening  upon  the  courts  of  palaces,  ushers 
you  into  a  wa>te  of  barren  mounds,  covered  with  withered  grass. 
But  over  the  blank  red  walls  in  front,  you  see  three  marble 
domes,  glittering  in  the  sunshine  like  new-fallen  snow,  and 
still  further,  the  golden  pinnacles  of  Akbar's  palace,  and  these 
objects  hint  that  your  dream  of  the  magnificence  of  the  Great 
Mogul  will  not  be  entirely  dispelled. 

But  first,  let  us  visit  the  modern  Arsenal,  which  was  once 
the  diwan,  or  Judgment-seat  of  Akbar.  It  was  formerly  an 
open  portico,  or  loggia,  the  roof  resting  on  three  rows  of  pil- 
lars, which  were  connected  by  Saracenic  arches  ;  but  at  present, 
the  outer  row  of  arches  being  walled  up,  it  forms  a  spacious 
hall,  divided  into  three  aisles.  All  the  weapons  of  modern 
warfare,  with  here  and  there  a  crooked  scimetar  or  battle-axe, 
of  ancient  times,  are  ranged  round  the  pillars  and  between  the 
arches  in  those  symmetrical  groupings  peculiar  to  instruments 
of  death.  At  the  intersections  of  the  central  arches  hang  tri- 
colored  banners  of  red,  blue  and  yellow,  with  the  names  of  the 
British  victories  in  India  inscribed  upon  them  in  English  and 
Sanscrit.  The  great  curiosity,  however,  is  the  celebrated 
gate  of  Somnauth,  which  was  carried  off  by  that  stern  icono- 
clast. Sultan  Mahmoud  of  Ghuznee.  Somnauth  was  a  holy 
Brahminical  city  on  the  coast  of  Goojerat,  and  noted  at  that 
5* 


106  INDIA,    CHINA.    AND    JAPAN 

time  for  the  wealth  and  magnificence  of  its  temples.  It  is  n 
lated  of  Mahmoud,  that,  after  having  taken  the  city  and  com 
menced  demolishing  the  idols,  the  Brahmins  offered  him  im 
mense  sums  if  he  would  spare  the  deity  of  their  great  tem- 
ple Mahmoud  was  only  tempted  for  an  instant.  "Truth,' 
be  said,  is  better  than  gold,"  and  raising  his  iron  mace,  he 
smote  the  idol,  which,  as  it  split,  poured  from  its  hollow  body 
a  store  of  gold  and  jewels  far  exceeding  what  the  Brahmini 
had  offered  him.  This  incident  has  afforded  subject  for  poetry 
to  Riickert,  the  German  poet,  and  our  own  Lowell 

The  gates  were  taken  by  Mahmoud  to  his  capital  of  Ghuz 
nee,  where  they  remained  until  the  recent  invasion  of  Aff 
ghanistan  by  the  English,  when  that  fantastic  individual, 
Lord  EUenborough,  bore  them  off  to  Agra.  They  are  about 
twelve  feet  high,  elaborately  carved  and  inlaid,  and  said  to  bo 
composed  entirely  of  sandal-wood.  On  one  of  the  panels 
three  metal  bosses  are  nailed.  According  to  tradition,  they 
were  taken  from  Mahmoud's  shield.  In  the  centre  of  the 
hall  is  the  throne  whence  Akbar  pronounced  judgment,  after 
the  cases  had  been  discussed  in  his  presence.  It  is  a  pavilion 
of  white  marble,  inlaid  with  jasper  and  cornelian,  in  the  form 
of  flowers,  ornamental  scrolls  and  sentences  from  the  Koran 
Below  it  is  an  immense  slab  of  white  marble,  on  which  he 
was  accustomed  to  seat  himself. 

Beyond  the  arsenal,  and  in  that  part  of  the  Fort  over- 
looking the  Jumna,  is  the  n  onarch's  palace,  still  in  a  toler- 
able state  of  preservation.  Without  a  ground-plan  it  would 
be  difficult  to  describe  in  detail  its  many  .courts,  its  separata 
masse  J  of  buildings  and  iza  detached  pavilions — which  com 
bine  to  form  a  labyrintli,  so  full  of  dazzling  architectural  ef 


AKBAR*8   PALACE— ITS   SPLENDOR.  101 

fects,  that  it  is  almost  impossible  to  keep  the  clue.  On  en* 
terinor  the  outer  courts,  I  was  at  once  reminded  of  the  Alham- 
bra.  Here  were  the  same  elegant  Moorish  arches,  with  theil 
tapering  bases  of  open  filigree  work  resting  on  slender  double 
ghafts — a  style  so  light,  airy  and  beautiful,  that  it  seems  fit 
only  for  a  palace  of  fairies.  Akbar's  palace  is  far  more  com- 
plete than  the  Alhambra.  No  part  has  been  utterly  de- 
stroyed, and  the  marks  of  injury  by  Time  and  battle,  are  com- 
paratively slight.  Here  a  cannon-ball  has  burst  its  way 
through  the  marble  screen  of  the  Sultana's  pavilion  ;  there  an 
inlaid  blossom  of  cornelian,  with  leaves  of  blood-stone,  has 
been  wantonly  dug  out  of  its  marble  bed  ;  the  fountains  are 
dry,  the  polished  tank  in  the  "  Bath  of  Mirrors "  is  empty, 
the  halls  are  untenanted — but  this  is  all.  No  chamber,  no 
window  or  staircase  is  wanting,  and  we  are  able  to  re-people 
the  palace  with  the  household  of  the  great  Emperor,  and  to 
trace  out  the  daily  routine  of  his  duties  and  pleasures. 

The  substructions  of  the  palace  are  of  red  sandstone,  but 
nearly  the  whole  of  its  corridors,  chambers  and  pavilions  are 
af  white  marble,  wrought  with  the  most  exquisite  elaboration 
of  ornament.  The  pavilions  overhanging  the  river  are  inlaid, 
within  and  without,  in  the  rich  style  of  Florentine  mosaic 
They  are  precious  caskets  of  marble,  glittering  all  over  with 
jasper,  agate,  cornelian,  blood-stone  and  la[)is-lazuli,  and 
topped  with  golden  domes.  Balustrades  of  marble,  wrought  in 
open  })atterns  of  such  rich  design  that  they  resemble  fringes 
of  lace  when  seen  from  below,  extend  along  the  edge  of  the 
battlements.  The  Jumna  w^ashcs  the  walls,  seventy  feet  be 
low,  and  from  the  balconies  attached  to  the  zenana,  or  won> 
en's  apartments,  there  are  beautiful  views  of  the  gardens  and 


108  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND   JAPAN. 

palm-groves  oq  the  opposite  bank,  and  that  wonder  of  India, 
the  Taj,  shining  like  a  palace  of  ivory  and  crystal,  about  a 
mile  down  the  stream. 

The  most  curious  part  of  the  palace  is  the  Sheesh  Mahal 
(Palace  of  Glass),  which  is  an  oriental  bath,  the  chambers  and 
passages  whereof  are  adorned  with  tliousands  of  small  mir- 
rors, disposed  in  the  most  intricate  designs.  The  water  falls 
in  a  broad  sheet  into  the  marble  pool,  over  brilliant  lamps, 
and  the  fountains  are  so  constructed  as  to  be  lighted  from 
within.  Mimic  cascades  tumble  from  the  walls,  over  slabs  of 
veined  marble,  into  basins  so  curiously  carved  that  the  motior 
of  the  water  produces  the  appearance  of  fish.  This  bath  must 
once  have  realized  all  the  fabled  Sjdendors  of  Arabian  stoiy 
The  chambers  of  the  Sultanas  and  the  open  courts  connecting 
them  are  filled  with  fountains.  Though  the  building  is  an  in- 
crustation of  gold,  marble,  and  precious  stones,  water  is  still 
its  most  beautiful  ornament.  Within  these  fairy  precincts 
lie  the  gardens,  still  overrun  with  roses  and  jasmine  vines,  in  the 
midst  of  which  fountains  are  playing.  There  is  also  a  court, 
paved  with  squares  of  black  and  white  marble,  so  as  to  form 
Si  pachisi  board.  This  is  a  game  resembling  backgammon,  but, 
instead  of  ivory  pieces,  it  was  played  on  this  colossal  board 
by  Akbar  and  his  wives,  or  eunuchs,  with  girls,  who  trotted 
from  square  to  square  as  the  moves  were  made. 

On  an  open  terrace  in  front  of  the  Diwan  e'Khaz,  where 
Akbar  sat  on  great  occasions,  is  his  throne,  a  slab  of  black 
narble,  about  &ix  icct  square.  It  is  cracked  entirely  through, 
whicl  my  old  guide  accounted  for  by  saying  that  when  the 
Mahrattas  took  Agra,  the  Rajah  of  Bhurtpore  seated  himself 
on  the  throne,  whereupon  it   not   only  cracked   fix)m  siae  to 


THE    PEARL    MOSQUE.  lOt 

side,  but  blood  gushed  out  of  its  top,  in  two  places.  WhcD 
Lord  Ellenborough  was  Governer-General  of  India,  lie  also 
sat  upon  it,  causing  it  to  shed  blood  a  second  time.  There  are 
two  red  stains  on  its  surface,  which  sufficiently  attest  these 
miracles  to  all  good  Mussulmen.  Opposite  the  throne  is  a 
smaller  one  of  white  marble,  where,  if  tradition  may  be  re- 
lied on,  the  Emperor's  fool,  or  jester,  took  his  place  and  bur- 
lesqued his  master. 

Before  leaving  the  Fort,  I  visited  the  Motee  Musjeed,  or 
Pearl  Mosque,  as  it  is  poetically  and  justly  termed.  It  is.  Id 
truth,  the  pearl  of  all  mosques,  of  small  dimensions,  but  abso 
lutely  perfect  in  style  and  proportions.  It  is  lifted  on  a 
lofty  sandstone  platform,  and  from  without  nothing  can  be 
seen  but  its  three  domes  of  white  marble  with  their  gilded 
spires.  In  all  distant  views  of  the  Fort  these  domes  are  seen, 
like  silvery  bubbles  which  have  rested  a  moment  on  its  walls, 
and  which  the  next  breeze  will  sweep  away.  Ascending  a 
long  flight  of  steps,  a  heavy  door  was  opened  for  me,  and  I 
stood  in  the  court-yard  of  the  mosque.  Here,  nothing  was 
to  be  seen  but  the  quadrangle  of  white  marble,  with  the  mosque 
on  its  western  side,  and  the  pure  blue  of  the  sky  overheaa. 
The  three  domes  crown  a  deep  corridor,  open  toward  the 
court,  and  divided  into  three  aisles  by  a  triple  row  of  the 
most  exquisitely  proportioned  Saracenic  arches.  The  Motee 
Musjoed  can  be  compared  to  no  other  edifice  that  I  have  overseen. 
To  my  eye  it  is  a  perfect  type  of  its  class.  While  its  architec- 
ture is  the  purest  Saracenic,  which  some  suppose  cannot  ex- 
ist without  ornament,  it  shows  the  severe  simplicity  of  Doric 
art.  It  has,  in  fact,  nothing  which  can  properly  be  termed 
ornament.     It  is  a  sanctuary  so  pure  and  stainless,  revealing 


no  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAB. 

BO  exalted  a  spirit  of  worship  that  I  felt  humbled  as  a  Chris 
tian,  to  think  that  our  nobler  religion  has  so  rarely  inspired  it« 
architects  to  surpass  this  temple  to  God  and  Mohammed. 

After  visiting  the  palace,  Mr.  Warren  accompanied  me  to 
the  tomb  of  Akbar,  at  Secundra,  about  six  miles  from  Agra 
Secundra  takes  its  name  from  Alexander,  whose  invasion  of 
India  has  thiis  been  commemorated  by  the  Moguls.  The 
great  Macedonian,  however,  did  not  penetrate  so  far  as  this, 
his  battle  with  Porus  having  been  fought  on  the  Jhelum,  oi 
Hydaspes,  beyond  Lahore.  The  road  to  Secundra  is  studded 
with  tombs,  and  there  are  many  remains  of  palaces  on  the 
bank  of  the  Jumna.  The  tomb  of  Akbar  stands  in  the  midst 
of  a  large  square  garden,  which  has  a  lofty  gateway  of  red 
sandstone  in  the  centre  of  each  of  its  sides.  From  these  four 
gateways,  which  are  upward  of  seventy  feet  high,  four  grand 
causeways  of  hewn  stone  converge  to  the  central  platform,  on 
which  the  mausoleum  stands.  The  intermediate  spaces  are 
filled  with  orange,  mango,  banana,  palm  and  peepul  trees.  In 
the  centre  of  the  causeways  are  immense  tanks  and  fountains. 
The  platform  of  solid  stone  which  terminates  these  magnifi- 
cent approaches  is  about  four  hundred  feet  square.  The  mau- 
soleum, which  is  square,  measures  more  than  three  hundred 
feet  on  a  side,  and  rises  in  five  terraces,  in  a  pyramidal  form, 
to  the  height  of  one  hundred  feet.  Around  each  of  the  ter- 
races runs  an  arched  gallery,  surmounted  by  a  row  of  cupolas, 
resting  on  small  pillars.  The  material  of  the  edifice  is  red 
sandstone,  except  the  upper  story,  which  is  of  white  marble. 

A  long,  descending  passage  leads  from  the  main  entrance 
to  a  vaulted  hall  in  the  centre  of  the  structure.  Light  is  ad 
mitted  through  a  few  small  openings  in  the  dome,  barely  suf 


THE    TOMB    OF    AKBaE.  Ill 

ficient  to  show  you  a  plain  tomb,  in  the  form  of  a  sarcopha 
guB  with  a  wreath  of  fresh  roses  lying  upon  it.  Beneath  it 
is  the  dust  of  Akbar,  one  of  the  greatest  men  who  evei 
wielded  a  sceptre — the  fourth  descendant  in  a  direct  line  from 
Tamerlane,  the  grandson  of  Baber,  the  Conqueror,  and  the 
grandfather  of  Shah  Jehan,  in  him  culminated  the  wisdom, 
the  power  and  the  glory  of  that  illustrious  line.  I  doubt  if 
the  annals  of  any  family  that  ever  reigned  can  furnish  six  suc- 
cessive monarchs  comparable,  in  the  greatness  of  their  endow- 
ments and  the  splendor  of  their  rule,  to  Baber,  Humayoon,  Ak- 
bar, Jehan  Grhir,  Shah  Jehan  and  Aurung-Zebe. 

On  the  summit  of  the  mausoleum,  which  is  open  to  the 
sky,  and  surrounded  by  screens  of  marble,  wrought  into  pat- 
terns of  marvellous  richness  and  variety,  stands  a  second 
tomb,  under  a  pavilion  of  marble,  covered  with  a  gilded 
dome.  This  is  exquisitely  sculptured,  containing  the  ninety- 
nine  names  of  God,  in  raised  Arabic  characters,  infolded  in 
elaborate  scroll-work.  At  each  corner  of  the  upper  terrace 
are  two  marble  turrets,  the  domes  of  which  are  covered  with 
gilded  and  emblazoned  tiles.  The  screens  of  marble  filigree 
around  the  sides  are  arranged  in  panels,  no  two  of  which  pre- 
sent the  same  design.  There  are  small  openings,  at  intervals , 
through  which  I  looked  out  on  the  level  country  watered  by 
the  Jumna — ^yellow  sandy  tracts  near  the  river,  but  receding 
into  green  wheat-fields  and  dark  mango-groves.  Agra  was  al- 
most hidden  from  sight  by  the  trees,  but  above  them  rose  the 
Bpires  of  two  Christian  churches,  the  red  battlements  of  th 
Fort,  and  farther  ofi"  the  dome  of  the  Taj,  a  silvery  disc,  like 
die  gibbous  moon,  just  hanging  on  the  horizon.  A  warmth 
and  sunny  silence,  like  that  of   Egypt,  hung  over  the  land 


I  12  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAA. 

ficape.     "What  I  had  seen  of  the  splendor  of  the  Moguls  emc 
vrhat  I  then  saw,  overpowered  me  like  a  magnificent  dream. 

We  in  America  hear  so  little  of  these  things,  and  even 
the  accounts  we  get  from  English  travellers  are  generally  s<. 
confused  and  unsatisfactory,  that  the  reader  must  pardon  me, 
if  in  attempting  the  description,  I  lose  myself  in  details.  I 
thought  the  Alcazar  of  Seville  and  the  Alhambra  of  Granada 
had  already  presented  me  with  the  purest  types  of  Saracenic 
architecture,  but  I  was  mistaken.  I  found,  in  India,  concep- 
tions of  Art  far  nobler  and  embodiments  far  more  successful 
There  is  a  Saracenic,  as  distinctly  as  there  is  a  Greek  and 
Gothic  school  of  Art — not  the  inferior,  but  the  equal  of  these. 

At  Secundra,  the  tomb  of  Akbar's  Christian  wife,  the 
Begum  Mariam,  who  is  believed  to  have  been  a  Portu- 
guese woman — has  been  taken  by  the  Church  Mission,  which 
has  converted  it  into  a  printing  establishment.  It  is  the  lar- 
gest office  of  the  kind  in  India,  giving  employment  to  about 
three  hundred  men,  most  of  whom  are  natives.  Printing  is 
carried  on  in  English,  Hindee,  Urdoo,  Sanscrit  and  Persian. 
There  is  a  type  foundry  connected  with  it,  in  whch  the  casting 
is  done  entirely  by  natives.  The  wages  paid  in  these  establish- 
ments vary  from  $1  50  to  $1  per  month.  Many  of  the  labor- 
ers are  Christians,  there  being  a  native  Christian  community 
of  about  five  hundred  persons  attached  to  the  Secundra  Mis- 
sion.  Most  of  these,  however,  are  persons  picked  up  during 
the  great  famine  of  1837,  when  thousands  of  children,  having 
been  deserted  bj  their  parents,  were  taken  by  the  Mission- 
aries and  educated  in  the  Christian  faith.  During  that  yeai 
the  Missions  prospered  exceedingly.  The  Presbyterian  Mis 
sion,  at  the  head  of  which  is  Mr.  Warren,  had  just  established 


THE     AQEA    JAIl  US 

seminaries  of  education  for  both  sexes,  nrhere  instruction  wa* 
furnished  at  a  rate  which  allowed  the  poorest  of  the  European 
and  half-caste  population  to  send  their  children.  Native 
scholars  were  of  course  admitted,  but  were  obliged  to  share  in 
the  religious  instruction  of  the  European  children.  These 
schools  were  under  the  charge  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Fullerton  and 
his  wife.  Whether  IVIissions  in  general  repay  the  vast  pecu- 
niary expense  and  sacrifice  of  life  and  talent  which  they  ex- 
act, is  a  question  concerning  which  I  have  strong  doubts ;  but 
that  they  have  accomplished  good  in  India,  and  that  their 
ministers  are  conscientious,  zealous  and  laborious  men,  I  am 
well  satisfied. 

Mr.  Warren  also  took  me  to  visit  the  Agra  Jail,  in  which  a 
new  and  interesting  experiment  is  now  being  tested,  The  jail 
there  is  a  sort  of  general  penitentiary,  whither  prisoners  are  sent 
from  all  parts  of  the  north-western  provinces.  The  number 
then  incarcerated  was  about  2,800.  The  jail  encloses  a  space 
of  about  forty  acres,  wherein  are  numbers  of  small  buildings 
and  manufactories,  as  the  prisoners  are  all  required  to  labor 
about  eight  hours  a  day.  Dr.  Walker,  the  Superintendent, 
who  formerly  had  charge  of  the  jail  at  Mynpoorie,  introduced 
a  system  of  prison  education,  which  was  so  successful,  that 
when  he  was  promoted  to  the  management  of  the  great  central 
jail  at  Agra,  he  determined  to  continue  it.  At  first  he 
experienced  great  difficulty,  the  prisoners  suspecting  that  some 
mysterious  Christian  doctrine  lay  covert  in  the  multiplication- 
table  and  the  spelling-book;  but  his  perseverance  so  wrought 
upon  them  that  all  of  those  employed  at  labor  within  the  jail 
(700  being  kept  upon  the  roads,  in  fettered  gangs),  were 
willing  scholars. 


il4  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND     JAP  AS. 

Dr.  Walker  was  kind  enough  to  conduct  me  through  the 
jail,  and  put  the  prisoners  through,  their  exercises.  It  was  a 
most  remarkable  spectacle.  Here  were  hundreds  of  mep 
Beated  at  their  looms,  weaving  carpets,  singing  the  multiplica- 
tion table  in  thundering  chorus.  "  Twelve  times  twelve,''''  sang 
the  monitor,  in  a  shrill  solo :  "  One  hundred  and  forty-four  !  " 
burst  out  the  chorus,  in  all  sorts  of  voices.  We  went  into 
the  blacksmith  s  shops  where  the  prisoners,  bj  a  refinement  oi 
punishment,  were  made  to  forge  their  own  fetters,  themselves 
fettered.  "  Seven  times  sixteen^''''  sang  the  solo,  as  he  raised 
his  hammer.  ^'■One  hundred  and  twelve^''''  was  roared  in  t  ?;wer, 
drowning  the  clang  and  bang  of  the  iron.  In  the  women's 
department  there  was  a  shrill  tempest  of  vulgar  fractioEs ;  the 
cooks  recited  astronomical  facts  while  mixing  their  rice. 
Even  the  hardest  cases,  confined  in  solitary  cells,  were  going  on 
with  their  "  a-h  abs,^^  through  a  hole  in  the  door,  to  a  monitor 
standing  outside.  The  murderers,  confined  for  life  (of  whom 
there  were  several  hundred),  were  not  exempted,  but  went 
tlirough  the  numerals  while  they  worked  at  paper-making.  I 
brought  away  a  sheet  of  paper,  made  entirely  by  these  wrettshes, 
and  will  present  it  to  King  Bomba,  whenever  he  is  ready  to 
write  his  abdication. 

There  is  a  monthly  examination  of  the  prisoners,  and  they 
who  can  read  a  short  story,  and  repeat  the  multiplication  table  of 
whole  numbers  and  fractions  up  to  16x16,  6|x25  and  6|x6|^, 
are  entitled  to  a  visit  from  their  friends  or  a  bath  in  the 
Jumna,  if  Hindoos,  and  a  visit  to  the  Taj,  if  Moslems.  The 
more  advanced  scholars  are  obliged  to  pass  in  writing,  the 
facts  of  astronomy,  simple  and  compound  interest,  &c.  There 
is  great  emulation  among  the  prisoners,  and  their  progress  if 


BB8ULT8  OF  THE  SYSTEM.  1  15 

rery  rapid.  As  one  result  of  the  system,  in  their  moral  im- 
provement, it  will  be  enough  to  state  that  in  1851,  before  ii 
was  introduced ,  the  number  of  punishments  administered  for 
offences  committed  within  the  jail,  was  162;  in  1852,  after 
its  introduction,  the  number  so  punished  was  18.  It  is  not 
much  to  the  credit  of  the  Government  that  it  only  allows  the 
miserable  sum  of  five  rupees  ($2  50)  a  month  in  support  of 
so  imp.)rtant  an  exp<^riment 


CHAPTER    XA 

THE     EUIN8      OF      F  U  T  T  E  H  P  O  R  E  -  8  I  K  R  E  « 

Excnrsion  to  Futtelpore-Slkree — The  Eoad  Thither— Approach  to  the  Eulns— Tiieii 
Extent  ard  Grandeur — The  Palace  of  Eajah  Beer-Bul — Perfect  Condition  (^  the 
Remains— Shekh  Bushirat-Ali— Age  of  Futtehpore — The  Emperor's  Palace— 
Rooms  of  the  Sultana  Mariam — Akbar's  Tolerance — The  Five  Palaces — The  Pillai 
of  Council— Profusion  of  Ornament— The  Emperor's  Sal  jtation— The  Elephant  Gat€ 
and  Tower — The  Durgah— Shekh  Selim-Chishti— H«  gives  a  Son  to  the  Emperor— 
The  Splendor  of  his  Tomb — View  from  the  Gateway — An  Experiment — Tiffin  in 
the  Palace— The  Story  of  the  Rajah  Beer-Bol  and  the  Ruby— Last  View  of  Futteh 
pore-Sikree. 

Before  leaving  Agra  I  made  an  excursion  to  the  ruins  of 
Futtehpore-Sikree,  which  are  about  twenty  two  miles  to  the 
tv^est  of  the  city.  I  had  been  so  strongly  counselled  to  visit 
the  place,  as  well  from  its  historic  interest  (having  been  the 
favorite  residence  of  Akbar),  as  from  the  extent  and  magnifi- 
cence of  its  remains,  that  I  postponed  for  another  day,  though 
reluctantly,  my  departure  for  Delhi.  Mr.  Sherer,  one  of  the 
Secretaries  of  Government,  kindly  offered  to  accompany  mo, 
and  through  his  familiarity  with  the  history  of  those  times, 
the  new  desolate  spot  was  peopled  for  me  with  the  phantoms 
3f  its  former    inhabitants.     I    ha^^e  rarely  had    the   Past  sc 


KXCURSION    TO    FDTTEHPORB-SIKREB.  117 

dvidly  restored,  or  so  completely  given  myself  up  to  its  illo 
flioDs.  The  day  was  one  of  the  whitest  in  my  calendar,  and 
not  unworthy  to  be  chronicled  beside  the  memorable  Theban 
days  of  the  previous  year. 

In  order  to  make  the  excursion  in  a  single  day,  I  had  re- 
lays of  horses  sent  out  in  advance,  and  took  my  departure  be- 
fore sunrisse,  in  a  light  garree — a  two-wheeled  vehicle,  resem- 
bling a  genteel  cart.  The  road  was  broad  and  good  for  the  first 
eight  miles,  and  bordered  by  stately  acacia,  peepul  and  neem 
trees.  I  passed  two  or  three  large  walled  gardens,  belonging 
to  native  Rajahs,  and  a  cleanly  little  village,  with  several 
small  temples  to  Vishnu  and  Shiva.  The  road  gradually  be- 
came rougher,  though  the  country  still  continued  level  and 
tolerably  cultivated.  My  horses,  inspired  by  the  pleasant 
morning  air,  trotted  merrily  along,  and  before  three  hours 
were  over,  Fiittehpore-Sikree  was  in  view,  A  low  range  of  red 
sandstone  hills  appeared  in  the  west,  with  here  and  there  a 
crumbling  ruin  on  the  crest.  The  extremity  of  this  rangt, 
about  four  miles  distant,  was  covered  with  a  mass  of  walls, 
terraces  and  spires,  crowned  with  a  majestic  portal,  which  rose 
high  above  them,  gleaming  against  the  sky  with  a  soft  red  lus- 
tre, as  the  sun  shone  full  upon  it. 

As  I  approached  nearer,  I  found  that  this  part  of  the  hill 
was  surrounded  by  a  lofty  wall  of  red  sandstone,  with  a 
machicolated  or  notched  parapet,  and  a  spacious  gate,  through 
which  my  road  ran.  It  is  almost  entire,  and  upwards  of  six 
miles  in  circuit,  enclosing  a  portion  of  the  plain  on  both  sides  ol 
the  hill.  Driving  through  the  deserted  gateway,  I  was  amazed 
at  the  piles  of  ruins  which  met  my  eye.  Here  was  a  narrow 
qIU,  nearly  a  mile  and  a  half  in  length,  and  averaging  a  huu 


118  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN 

dred  feet  in  height,  almost  entirely  covered  with  the  remaim 
of  palaces,  mosques  and  public  buildings,  in  some  places  near 
ly  as  perfect  as  when  first  erected,  in  others  little  else  than 
shapeless  masses  of  hewn  stones.  Innumerable  pavilions 
resting  on  open  arches,  cupolas  and  turrets,  shot  up  from  this 
picturesque  confusion ;  but  the  great  portal,  of  which  I  have 
already  spoken,  dominated  over  all,  colossal  as  one  of  the 
pylons  of  Karnak.  The  series  of  arched  terraces,  rising  one 
above  another  up  the  sides  of  the  hill,  gave  the  place  an  air 
of  barbaric  grandeur,  such  as  we  imagine  Babylon  to  have 
possessed,  and  of  which  there  are  traces  in  Martin's  pictures. 
But  here  there  was  nothing  sombre  or  stern ;  the  bright  red 
sandstone  of  the  buildings,  illumined  here  and  there  by  a 
gilded  spire,  was  bathed  in  a  flood  of  sunshine,  and  stood,  so 
shadowless  as  almost  to  lack  perspective,  against  a  cloudless 
sky.  The  modern  village  of  Futtehpore  at  the  foot  of  the 
hill,  was  adorned  with  beautiful  trees,  and  that  part  of  the 
plain  enclosed  within  the  ancient  walls  was  green  with  fields 
of  young  wheat. 

I  drove  through  the  long,  rambling  street  of  Futtehpore, 
not  without  considerable  risk  of  destroying  the  stock  of  the 
native  merchants,  for  the  space  between  their  shopboarda 
was  scarcely  wider  than  my  garree.  Then  owing  to  the 
frtupidity  of  the  groom,  wlio  liad  missed  the  road,  I  was 
obliged  to  return  as  I  camo,  and  finally  climbed  the  hill  on 
foot.  In  the  palace  of  Rajah  Beer-Bul  one  of  Akbar's  Prime 
Ministers,  I  found  Mr.  Sherer,  who  had  come  out  luring 
the  night  in  a  palanquin.  The  palace  was  an  exquisite,  build- 
ing, quite  uninjured,  and  had  been  fitted  up  with  tables,  chairs 
carpets,  etc.,   for  the   convenience  of  visitors  to  the  place 


8HEEH   BUSHARAT-ALI.  119 

There  was  a  table  set  in  a  cool,  vaulted  hall  in  the  second 
story,  and  Mr.  Sherer's  servants  were  preparing  breakfast  in 
the  Rajah's  kitchen.  We  took  our  seats  on  the  massive  stone 
terrace  of  the  pahice,  to  await  the  meal.  The  royal  residence 
of  Ai<bar  was  on  our  left;  the  grand  Durgah,  or  tomb  of 
Shekh  Selim-Chishti  on  the  right,  and  the  empty  (inadraugles 
into  which  we  looked,  showed  no  trace  of  ruin.  The  stone 
pavements  were  partly  overrun  with  grass,  but  not  a  block  of 
the  arched  cori-idors  surrounding  them  had  tumbled  from  its 
place.  How  like  yesterday  seemed  the  Futtehpore  of  three 
centuries  ago  !  The  palace  was  deserted,  not  ruined,  and  its 
lord  was  not  dead,  but  absent.  I  felt  like  an  intruder  in  the 
sculptured  chambers  of  Beer-Bul,  and  should  not  liave  been 
much  surprised  had  a  chobdar,  with  his  silver  mace,  made  his 
appearance,  to  drive  me  away. 

The  guardian  of  the  place,  a  lusty  old  Mussulman,  named 
Shekh  Busharat-Ali,  came  to  make  his  salaam  and  accompany 
me  over  the  ruins.  He  was  a  stout  man  of  fifty-five,  with  a 
gray  moustache,  and  a  face  expressive  of  great  good-will  and 
good-humor.  He  wore  a  white  turban  and  a  cotton  gown,  tied 
on  the  left  shoulder,  so  as  to  expose  the  left  side  of  a  most  sleek 
and  capacious  chest.  The  Hindoos  and  Parsees  tie  their  gar- 
ments on  the  right  shoulder,  in  opposition  to  the  Mussulmans. 
Busharat-Ali  was  a  very  devout  follower  of  the  Prophet,  and 
knew  most  of  ihe  Koran  in  Arabic.  He  was  greatly  delighted 
when  I  addre-sed  him  in  that  language,  and  thereafter  was 
continually  repeating  prajers  and  singing  passages  of  the  Ko- 
lan,  that  I  might  perceive  how  much  he  knew.  His  knowl- 
edge of  Futtehpore  was  much  inferior  to  that  of  Mr.  Sherer 
wlio  had  carefully  studied  the  history  of  Akbar's  reign,  bu/ 


120  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND   JAPAN. 

he  was  a  pleasant  companion  during  our  rarables  among  th« 
ruins,  and  we  suffered  him  to  go  through  with  his  stories  and 
traditions  as  u>uaL 

After  breakfast,  we  set  out  to  make  a  thorough  survey  oi 
he  phice.  T  should  first  state  that  Futtehpore-Sikree  was  « 
country  re-idenee  of  Akbar,  and  stood  in  the  same  relation 
to  Agra  that  Windsor  Castle  does  to  London.  It  was  completed 
in  1571,  and  for  twelve  years  his  couit  was  stationed  there. 
At  that  time  it  must  have  been  a  populous  place,  but  it  is  prob- 
able that  the  dwellings  of  the  lower  classes  of  the  natives 
consisted  then,  as  now,  of  mud  huts,  for  there  are  very  few 
ruins  on  the  plain  surrounding  the  hill.  The  existence  of  a 
Mint  and  other  public  edifices,  on  a  very  large  scale,  shows 
that  it  was  considered  as  a  temporary  capital.,  rather  than  as  a 
mere  palace  of  summer  resort. 

Commencing  with  the  Emperor's  palace,  we  first  visited 
the  separate  dwelling  assigned  to  his  Christian  wife.  This, 
unlike  other  Moslem  buildings,  is  covered  with  paintings  in 
fresco,  evidently  by  Persian  artists.  They  are  said  to  repre- 
sent the  adventures  of  the  hero  Rustuin  as  related  in  Firdusi'a 
*  Shah  Nameh."  Certain  niches,  however,  over  the  doors  and 
windows,  contain  pictures  of  a  different  character,  and  cer- 
tainly have  a  religious  significance.  On  one  side  are  the 
Hindoo  gods  and  goddesses — the  elephant-headed  Ganeish- 
Mahadeo,  and  Lokshmi — and  on  the  other  two  tablets,  almost 
obliterated,  but  still  sufficiently  distinct  to  show  that  one  of 
them  is  intended  for  the  Annunciation.  Akbar's  latitude  in 
religious  matters  is  w^ell  known,  but  I  had  not  given  him 
credit  for  so  much  toleration  as  this  would  imply.  Among 
the  ornamental  designs  of  this  palace,  the  Greek  Cross  is  not 


AKBAR^S    PALACE.  *  12] 

t 

luusual,  and  it  is  related  that  when  the  Jesuits  solicited  the 
Emperor's  protection,  he  replied  to  them:  "  What  would  you 
have  ?  See !  I  have  more  crosses  on  my  palace  than  you  iu 
your  churches." 

The  buildings  of  the  palace  cover  the  crest  of  the  hill,  hav 
ing  superb  views  on  both  sides,  over  many  a  league  of  th 
fruitful  plain.  There  is  quite  a  labyrinth  of  courts,  pavilions, 
small  palaces,  gateways,  tanks,  fountains,  and  terraces,  and  I 
found  it  difl&cult  to  obtain  a  clear  idea  of  their  arrangement. 
Most  of  the  buildings  are  so  well  preserved  that  a  trifling  ex- 
pense would  make  them  habitable.  For  a  scholar  or  poet  I 
can  conceive  of  no  more  delightful  residence.  Adjoining  the 
palace  of  the  Christian  woman,  stands  the  Panch-Mahal  (Five 
Palaces),  consisting  of  five  square  platforms,  resting  on  richly 
carved  pillars,  and  rising  one  above  another  in  a  pyramidal 
form,  to  a  considerable  height.  Mr.  Sherer  supposes  it  to  have 
been  a  sleeping  place  for  the  servants  connected  with  the 
palace.  Beyond  it  is  a  court-yard,  paved  with  large  slabs  of 
sandstone,  and  containing  a  colossal  ^ac^isi-board,  such  as  I 
have  described  in  speaking  of  the  Palace  at  Agra.  In  one 
corner  of  the  court-yard  is  a  labyrinthine  building,  of  singular 
design,  wherein  the  ladies  of  the  Emperor's  zenana  were 
accustomed  to  play  hide-and-seek.  A  little  further  is  a  sort 
of  chapel,  two  stories  high,  and  crowned  with  several  cupola? 
On  entering,  however,  I  found  that  there  was  but  one  story, 
extending  to  the  dome,  with  a  single  pillar  in  the  centre,  rising 
to  the  height  of  the  upper  windows.  This  pillar  has  an  im- 
mense capital  of  the  richest  sculpture,  three  times  its  diameter, 
is'ith  four  stone  causeways  leading  to  the  four  corners  of  the 
phapel,  where  there  are  small  platforms  of  the   shape   of  a 


122  *  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

^[uadrant.  Tradition  says  that  this  building  was  used  h) 
Akbar  as  a  place  for  discussing  matters  of  science  or  religi  3n, 
himself  occupying  the  capital  of  the  central  pillar,  while  hii 
chief  men  were  seated  in  the  four  corners. 

In  this  same  court  is  a  pavilion,  consisting  of  a  pyramidal 
canopy  of  elaborately  carved  stone,  resting  on  four  pillars, 
which  have  a  cornice  of  peculiar  design,  representing  a  serpent. 
This  pavilion  approaches  as  near  the  Hindoo  style  of  building. 
as  is  possible,  without  violating  the  architecture  of  the  palace, 
which  is  a  massive  kind  of  Saracenic.  It  was  the  station  of  a 
Gooroo,  or  Hindoo  Saint,  whom  Akbar,  probably  from  motives 
of  policy,  kept  near  him.  The  palace  of  the  Sultana  of 
Constantinople  is  one  mass  of  the  most  laborious  sculpture. 
There  is  scarcely  a  square  inch  of  blank  stone  in  the  building. 
But  the  same  remark  would  apply  to  almost  the  whole  of  the 
palace,  as  well  as  to  that  of  Beer-Bul.  It  is  a  wilderness  of 
sculpture,  where  invention  seems  to  have  been  taxed  to  the 
utmost  to  produce  new  combinations  of  ornament.  Every 
thing  is  carved  in  a  sandstone  so  fine  and  compact,  that,  ex- 
cept where  injured  by  man,  it  appears  nearly  as  sharp  as  when 
first  chiselled.  The  amount  of  labor  bestowed  on  Futtehpore 
throws  the  stucco  filigrees  of  the  Alhambra  quite  into  the 
shade.  It  is  unlike  any  thing  that  I  have  ever  seen.  And 
yet  the  very  name  of  this  spendid  collection  of  ruins,  which 
eannot  be  surpassed  anywhere,  outside  of  Egypt,  was  unknown 
to  me,  before  reaching  India ! 

We  paid  rather  a  hasty  visit  to  the  Diwdn-e^-khaZy  the 
Diwdn  e^-am,  and  the  mint.  The  latter  is  an  immense  quad- 
rangle, half  blocked  up  with  ruins.  In  the  diwan-e'-am,  ig 
the  balcony  where  Akbar  usually  made  his  public  appearance 


ELEPHANT    GATE    AND    TOWEU.  123 

ID  the  morning,  to  the  crowd  waiting  in  the  court  to  gee  oi 
petition  him.  He  was  greeted  on  these  occasions  with  the  crj 
of  "  Allah  ahhar !  "  (God  is  great !)  to  which  he  invariably 
replied  :  J'iMi  jellallihoo  !  "  (May  his  glory  shine !)  This  was 
a  mode  of  salutation  introduced  by  himself,  because  the  two 
phrases  contained  his  name-Jellal-ud-deen  Akbar.  I  have 
frequently  heard  a  very  similar  style  of  address  in  Bohemia, 
where  the  greeting  is :  "  Praised  be  Jesus  Christ ! "  and  the 
answer :     "  In  eternity.     Amen." 

On  the  north  side  of  Beer-Bul's  palace,  a  little  further 
down  the  hill*,  is  the  famous  Elephant  Gate.  Akbar  at  one 
time  intended  to  make  a  fortress  of  the  place,  and  com- 
menced by  building  this  gate,  which  is  a  very  noble  structure, 
flanked  by  two  octagonal  bastions  :  but  Shekh  Selim-Chishti,  in 
whose  sanctity  the  Emperor  had  great  faith,  threatened  to 
leave,  in  case  the  plan  was  carried  out,  and  the  fortress  was 
therefore  relinquished.  On  each  side  of  the  gate  is  a  colos- 
sal elephant,  on  a  lofty  pedestal,  but  both  the  animals  have 
lost  their  trunks,  and  are  otherwise  mutilated.  A  steep  paved 
road,  between  gardens,  hanging  one  below  the  other  on  arched 
terraces,  interrupted  occasionally  by  the  ruins  of  palaces,  leads 
down  the  hill  to  the  Elephant's  Tower,  a  minaret  about  ninety 
feet  high,  and  studded  from  top  to  bottom  with  the  tusks  of 
elephants.  There  is  much  discussion  concerning  its  character, 
but  the  most  plausible  supposition  is  that  it  was  erected  by 
Akbar  over  the  grave  of  a  favorite  elephant.  It  is  called  by 
the  natives  the  Hiriui  Minar  (Antelope  tower). 

By  this  time  it  was  two  hours  past  noon,  and  I  still  had 
the  famous  Durgah  to  see.  We  therefore  retraced  our  steps, 
and  ascended  to  the  highest  part  of  the  hill,  where  the  toml 


124  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

rises  like  a  huge  square  fortress,  overtopping  the  palace  oi 
Akbar  himself.  We  mounted  a  long  flight  of  steps,  and  en 
tered  a  quadrangle  so  spacious,  so  symmetrical,  so  wonderfu' 
in  its  decorations,  that  I  was  filled  with  amazement.  Fancy 
paved  court-yard,  428  feet  in  length  by  406  in  breadth,  sur 
rounded  with  a  pillared  corridor  50  feet  high;  one  of  th 
noblest  gateways  in  the  world,  120  feet  high;  a  triple-domed 
mosque  on  one  side ;  a  large  tank  and  fountain  in  the  centre, 
and  opposite  the  great  portal,  the  mother-of-pearl  and  marble 
tomb  of  the  Shekh,  a  miniature  palace,  gleaming  like  crystai 
with  its  gilded  domes,  its  ivory  pillars,  and  its  wreaths  of  won- 
drous, flower-like  ornaments,  inwrought  in  marble  filigree. 
The  court,  with  its  immense  gate,  seemed  an  enchanted  fortress, 
solely  erected  to  guard  the  precious  structure  within. 

Shekh  Selim-Chishti  was  a  very  holy  man,  who  became 
known  as  such  by  his  intimacy  with  tigers,  several  of  whom 
lived  with  him  in  a  cave  on  the  hill  where  his  tomb  now 
stands.  His  renown  reached  the  ears  of  Akbar,  who,  finding 
him  to  be  a  man  of  apparent  sanctity  and  considerable  wis- 
dom, built  the  palace  of  Futtehpore-Sikree,  it  is  said,  to  be 
near  him.  He  consulted  him  on  all  important  occasions,  and, 
9.S  the  story  goes,  was  finally  indebted  to  him  for  an  heir  to 
tiis  throne.  For  some  time  after  Akbar's  accession,  he  was 
without  a  son,  and  twice  demanded  of  the  Shekh  whether  he 
should  ever  have  one.  "No,"  said  the  latter;  "it  is  not  so 
written."  Now  he,  the  Shekh,  had  an  infant  son  of  six 
months  old ;  for  these  Moslem  saints  are  the  reverse  of  celi 
bates  Upon  Akbar  coming  to  make  the  demand  a  third 
time  and  receiving  the  same  answer,  this  infant,  who  waf 
present  in  his  cradle  during  the  interview,  suddenly  spoke 


THE    SHEKH    AND    THE    EMPEROR's    SON.  126 

although  never  before  had  he  so  much  as  lisped  a  syllaMe 
*  Father,"  said  he,  "  why  do  you  send  away  the  Conqueror  of 
the  World,  in  despair?"  "Because,"  said  the  Shekh 
although  he  marvelled  not  a  little  at  this  unexpected  ques 
lion ;  "  there  is  no  son  written  for  him,  unless  another  will 
give  up  the  life  of  a  child  destined  for  him ;  and  who  will  do 
this  ?  "  "  If  you  permit  me,  father,"  said  the  infant,  "  I  will 
die,  that  a  son  may  be  born  to  the  Emperor," — and  even  be- 
fore the  Shekh  signified  his  consent,  he  gave  up  the  ghost. 
That  day  an  heir  to  the  throne  was  conceived,  and  in  due  time 
was  born.  There  are  scandalous  persons,  however,  who  say 
that  thip  is  an  allegory,  veiling  a  truth,  and  that  the  Shekh,  in 
procuring  an  heir  for  the  Emperor,  did,  in  fact,  give  up  his 
own  son,  but  without  destroying  his  life.  Be  that  as  it  may, 
Jehan-Ghir,  the  son  of  Akbar,  bore  the  name  of  Selim  until 
he  ascended  the  throne. 

We  are  allowed  to  enter  the  inner  corfidor  which  sar- 
rounds  the  Shekh 's  tomb,  and  to  look  in,  but  not  to  cross  the 
threshold.  The  tomb,  as  well  as  a  canopy  six  feet  high, 
which  covers  it,  is  made  of  mother-of-pearl.  The  floor  is  of 
jasper,  and  the  walls  of  white  marble,  inlaid  with  cornelian. 
A  cloth  of  silk  and  gold  was  spread  over  it  like  a  pall,  and 
upon  this  were  wreaths  of  fresh  and  withered  flowers.  The 
screens  of  marble  surrounding  the  building  are  the  most 
beautiful  in  India.  They  are  single  thin  slabs,  about  eight 
feet  square,  and  wrought  into  such  intricate  open  patterns 
that  you  would  say  they  had  been  woven  in  a  loom.  The 
mosque,  which  is  of  older  date  than  the  tomb,  is  very  elegant, 
resembling  somewhat  the  Hall  of  the  Abencerrages  in  the 
Alhambra,  except  that  it  is  mucl  larger,  and  of  white  marble 


126  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

instead  of  stucco.  Busharat-Ali  informed  me  that  the  Dnr- 
gah  was  erected  in  one  year,  from  the  wealth  left  by  the 
Shekh  Selim-Chishti  at  his  death,  and  that  it  cost  thirty-seven 
lacs  of  rupees — $1,750,000. 

We  ascended  to  the  summit  of  the  great  gateway,  for  the 
.-sake  of  the  panoramic  view  of  Futtehpore-Sikree,  and  the  ad- 
jacent country.  It  is  a  vast  plain,  and  our  horizon  was  de- 
scribed by  a  radius  of  twenty  miles — a  circle  of  fresh  wheat- 
fields,  dotted  wdth  mango-groves,  and  now  and  then  the  blue 
gleam  of  a  river  or  irrigating  canal.  There  were  some  low 
hills  in  the  west,  and  the  famous  citadel  of  Bhurtpore,  in  that 
direction,  was  barely  visible.  The  country,  though  less  gar- 
den-like, reminded  me  of  the  plain  of  the  Nile.  A  few  years 
ago  it  was  all  an  uncultivated  waste.  Mr.  Thomasson,  the 
late  Lieutenant-Grovernor  of  the  north-western  provinces 
happening  to  be  at  Futtehpore-Sikree  one  day,  heard  a  native 
say  that  in  Akbar's  time,  the  country  was  annually  over- 
flowed, so  that  the  palace  was  in  the  midst  of  a  lake. 
"Well,"  said  Mr.  T.,  "I  will  overflow  it,  too."  And  ho 
ordered  the  banks  of  a  small  river,  which  flows  into  the  Jum- 
na near  Bhurtpore,  to  be  cut  away,  so  that,  when  the  rainy 
season  came,  the  water  spread  over  about  twenty  square  miles 
of  land.  That  year  the  natives  had  crops  such  as  had  nevei 
been  heard  of  in  those  parts,  but  they  had  also  a  fever,  which 
carried  off  eight  hundred  persons.  However,  the  Governor 
made  his  work  good,  by  cutting  a  canal  to  take  off  the  inun- 
dation, and  now  the  region  has  regained  its  health,  and  kept 
its  big  crops  into  the  bargain. 

We  went  back  to  Beer-Bul's  palace,  where  the  servants 
bad  prepared  tiffin  in  the  mean  time.     Busharat-Ali  sang  ar 


THE  STORY  OF  BEEfi-BUL  ANU  THE  RUB?.       127 

A.rab  lov^-song,  and  told  us  tales  of  the  time  of  Akbar 
Some  of  these  could  not  very  well  be  repeated,  as,  like  most 
Eastern  stories,  they  were  narratives  of  skilful  intrigue ;  bu< 
there  was  one  relating  to  Beer-bul  himself,  which  I  here  r© 
late  in  the  Shekh's  words,  merely  omitting  some  of  his  end 
less  repetitions  of  phrases. 

"  One  day,"  so  began  the  old  man,  "  Akbar-Shah  and 
Rajah  Beer-bul  were  sitting  together.  Akbar  said  to  Beer- 
bul,  MVhat  would  you  do,  if  a  great  misfortune  fell  upon 
you  ?  '  Said  Beer-bul,  '  I  should  give  myself  up  to  pleasure.' 
'  How  to  pleasure,'  said  Akbar,  *  when  you  were  unfortu- 
nate?' 'Still,'  said  Beer-bul,  *I  should  do  it.'  The  next 
day  Akbar  said  to  Beer-bul,  '  Take  this  ruby,  and  keep  it  till 
I  call  for  it.'  Now  it  was  a  ruby  worth  millions  of  rupeesj 
such  as  there  never  was  in  the  world,  before  nor  since.  So 
Beer-bul  took  the  ruby  home  to  his  daughter,  and  bade  her 
keep  it  carefully,  for  it  belonged  to  Akbar-Shah;  and  she 
locked  it  up  in  a  chest  with  three  locks. 

"  Then  Akbar  sent  to  the  greatest  robber  in  the  place, 
who  was  condemned  to  die,  and  had  him  brought  before  him. 

Bobber,'  said  he,  *  I  will  give  you  your  life,  if  you  can  do 
one  thing  for  me.'  'What  is  that?  '  said  the  robber.  '  You 
must  steal  from  my  Minister,  Beer-bul,  a  ruby  which  I  havo 
given  him  to  keep,'  said  Akbar-Shah.  The  robber  agreed 
and  no  sooner  had  he  gone  into  the  city  upon  this  errand, 
than  he  sent  for  a  very  cunning  little  old  woman.  There  is 
QOW  no  woman  living  who  is  so  cunning  as  she  was,  although  " 
— interpolated  the  Shekh,  with  a  sly  twinkle  of  the  eye — 

'  there  are  still  some,  who  would  be  a  snatch  for  Ebliz  him- 
Rilf     Well,  t\is  little  cunning  old  woman  went  to  Beer-buPs 


128  INDIA,    CHINA     AND    JAPAN. 

daughter  and  engaged  herself  as  maid,  and  she  gradually  3c 
won  her  confidence  that  Beer-bul's  daughter  showed  her  th» 
box  with  three  locks  and  the  ruby.  So  she  filched  the  keys 
opened  the  locks,  took  the  ruby,  and  gave  it  to  the  robber^ 
who  brought  it  to  Akbar.  Then  Akbar  threw  it  into  the 
Jumna,  and  sent  for  Beer-bul  'Bring  me  the  ruby,'  said 
he.  *  Very  well,'  said  Beer-bul,  and  went  home  to  bring  it, 
but  behold  !  it  was  stolen.  '  Well,  where's  the  ruby  ? '  said 
Akbar.  'Your  Majesty  shall  have  it  in  fifteen  days.'  'Very 
well,'  said  Akbar,  '  but  remember  that  your  head  is  security 
for  it.' 

"  Beer-bul  went  home,  and  said  to  his  daughter,  '  We  have 
but  fifteen  days  to  live — let  us  spend  them  in  festivity.'  So 
they  ate,  and  drank,  and  gave  feasts  and  dances,  till  in  twelve 
days  they  had  spent  many  lacs  of  rupees,  and  there  was  not  a 
pice  left  them  to  buy  food.  They  remained  thus  two  days 
On  the  fourteenth  morning,  the  daughter  of  a  fisherman  who 
6shed  in  the  Jumna,  said  to  her  father :  '  Father,  the  Rajah 
Beer-bul  and  his  daughter  have  had  nothing  to  eat  for  two 
days;  let  me  take  them  this  fish  for  breakfast.'  So  she  took 
them  the  fish,  which  Beer-bul's  daughter  received  with  many 
thanks,  and  immediately  cooked.  But  as  they  were  eating  it 
there  came  a  pebble  into  Beer-bul's  mouth.  He  took  it  out  in 
his  fingers,  and,  wah  !  it  was  the  ruby.  The  next  morning  he 
went  to  Akbar-Shah,  and  said  :  '  Here  is  the  ruby,  as  I  prom- 
ised '  Akbar  was  covered  with  surprise ;  but  when  he  had 
heard  the  story,  he  gave  Beer-bul  two  crores  of  rupees,  and 
^id  that  he  spoke  the  truth — it  was  better  to  rejoice  than  te 
grieve  in  misfortune." 

The  moral  of  this  story  is  rather  awkwardly  brought  out 


FAREWELL    TO    FUTTEHPORE-SIRRBB.  129 

bui  the  plot  is  curious,  from  its  resemblance  to  the  *  Ring  of 
Poly  crates."  It  was  spun  out  to  a  much  greater  length  in 
the  Shekh's  narration. 

I  took  leave  of  Mr.  Sherer,  who  was  to  go  back  in  the 
evening  by  palanquin,  shook  hands  with  Busharat-Ali,  and 
drove  slowly  down  the  hill,  and  out  the  gate.  I  was  about 
two  miles  distant  when  the  sun  went  down  in  a  broad  crimson 
glory,  and  my  last  view  of  Futtehpoie-Sikree  was  as  a  dari 
band  sublime  against  the  deepening  brilliancy.  But  I  shall 
long  remember  the  day  I  spent  in  its  palaces. 


CHAPTEB    y. 

THB    TAJ   MAHAL. 

Distant  Vtews  Jt  th«  Taj— Tomb  of  Itmun  e'  Dowlah— The  Garden  of  Eama— Nighl 
Worship— Tie  Taj  Mahal— Its  Origin— The  Light  of  the  Harem— Portal  and  Avenue 
to  the  Taj— Its  Fa;m— Its  Inlaid  Marbles  and  Jewel  Work— Tomb  of  Noor-Jehan— 
The  Dome— Resemblance  to  Florentine  Art— Proofs  of  Saracenic  Design— Th* 
Echo  under  the  Dome -Beauty  of  the  Taj— Saracenic  Architecture— Plan  of  Shah 
Jehan— Garree  Dawk — Leaving  Agra— Night— Allyghur — The  Grand  Trunk  Eoad 
—Distant  View  of  Delhi— ArrivaL 

I  PURPOSELY  postponed  my  visit  to  the  Taj  Mahal — the  most 
renowned  monument  of  Agra — until  I  had  seen  every  thing 
else  in  the  city  and  its  vicinity.  The  distant  view  of  this 
matchless  edifice  satisfied  me  that  its  fame  was  well  deserved. 
So  pure,  so  gloriously  perfect  did  it  appear,  that  I  almost 
feared  to  approach  it,  lest  the  charm  should  be  broken.  It  is 
seen  to  best  advantage  from  the  tomb  of  Itmun  e'  Dowlah, 
the  Prime  Minister  of  Shah  Jehan,  which  stands  in  a  garden 
on  the  northern  bank  of  the  Jumna,  directly  opposite  to  the 
city.  I  spent  an  afternoon  at  this  tomb  and  the  Ram  Bagh, 
(Garden  of  Rama,)  two  miles  further  up  the  river.  The  for 
mer  is  a  mausoleum  of  white  marble,  elegantly  sculptured  and 
Inlaid,  standing  on  a  raised  platform,  from  the  corners  of 


THE    GARDEN    OF    RAMA.  13 1 

which  rise  marble  minarets.  Its  design  shows  the  same 
purity  of  taste,  the  same  richness  of  fancy,  which  I  had  pre- 
viously remarked  in  the  Pearl  Mosque,  and  afterward  in  the 
Taj. 

The  Ram  Bagh  is  a  garden  which,  I  believe,  formerly 
belonged  to  the  Mogul  Emperors,  and  is  now  kept  in  order  as 
a  place  of  recreation,  by  the  Government.  Too  much  praise 
cannot  be  awarded  to  the  British  rulers  in  India,  for  the  care 
with  which  they  have  restored  and  protected  all  of  these  mon- 
uments of  the  past,  expending  large  sums  to  prevent  the 
mosques,  palaces  and  tombs  of  the  former  rulers  from  falling 
into  decay.  On  account  of  the  humidity  of  the  soil,  and  the 
abundance  of  insects  and  reptiles,  the  Ram  Bagh  is  traversed 
by  raised  stone  causeways,  the  principal  of  which  inclose 
water  tanks  and  fountains.  It  is  a  pleasant,  shady  retreat, 
with  a  stone  balcony  overhanging  the  rapid  Jumna,  and  com- 
manding a  view  of  many  ruined  palaces  on  the  opposite  bank. 
There  are  suites  of  apartments,  comfortably  furnished,  which 
are  let  to  visitors  at  the  rate  of  a  rupee  per  day ;  but  when 
the  applications  are  frequent,  no  one  is  allowed  to  stay  more 
than  eight  days,  in  order  to  give  a  chance  to  others.  My 
friends  brought  their  servants  and  a  handsome  tiffin,  of  which 
we  all  partook,  in  the  largest  chamber.  We  returned  across 
the  bridge  of  boats  in  the  evening.  The  Hindoos  had  lighted 
lamps  in  front  of  the  many  little  shrines  facing  the  water, 
and  in  some  of  them  stood  persons  waving  a  torch  back  anc 
forth  before  the  face  of  the  god,  crying  out  at  the  same  time 
"  Ram,  Ram,  Ram  !  "  "  Ram,  Seeta,  Ram  !  "  This  cere- 
mony,  with  the  pouring  of  the  Jumna  water  over  the  image, 
and  decorating  it  with  wreaths  of  flowers;,  appeared  to  be  the 


i32  INDIA,    CHINA,    ANi»    JAPAN. 

only  form  of  worship  observed.  There  are  more  subsiantial 
oflferings  made,  but  if  the  god  gets  them,  the  Brahmins  take 
care  that  he  shall  not  keep  them. 

To  return  to  the  Taj — for  the  reader  expects  me  to  de- 
Bcribe  it,  and  I  must  comply,  although  reluctantly,  for  I  am 
aware  of  the  difficulty  of  giving  an  intelligible  picture  of  a 
building,  which  has  no  counterpart  in  Europe,  or  even  in  the 
East.  The  mosques  and  palaces  of  Constantinople,  the  domed 
tent  of  Omar  at  Jerusalem,  and  the  structures  of  the  Sara* 
cens  and  Memlooks  at  Cairo,  have  nothing  in  common  with  it 
The  remains  of  Moorish  art  in  Spain  approach  nearest  to  its 
spirit,  but  are  only  the  scattered  limbs,  the  torso,  of  which 
the  Taj  is  the  perfect  type.  It  occupies  that  place  in  Sara- 
cenic art,  which,  during  my  visit  to  Constantinople,  I  mis- 
takenly gave  to  the  Solymanye  Mosque,  and  which,  in  respect 
to  Grecian  art,  is  represented  by  the  Parthenon.  If  there 
were  nothing  else  in  India,  this  alone  would  repay  the  jour- 
ney. 

The  history  and  associations  of  the  Taj  are  entirely  poetic, 
It  is  a  work  inspired  by  Love,  and  consecrated  to  Beauty. 
Shah  Jehan,  the  "  Selim  "  of  Moore's  poem,  erected  it  as  a 
mausoleum  over  his  queen,  Noor  Jehan — "  the  Light  of  the 
World  " — whom  the  same  poet  calls  Noor-Mahal,  "  the  Light 
of  the  Harem,"  or  more  properly,  "  Palace."  She  is  reputed 
to  have  been  a  woman  of  surpassing  beauty,  and  of  great  wit 
and  intelligence.  Shah  Jehan  was  inconsolable  for  her  loss 
and  has  immortalized  her  memory  in  a  poem,  the  tablets  of 
which  are  marble,  and  the  letters  jewels : — for  the  Taj  k 
poetry  transmuted  into  form,  and  hence,  when  a  poet  sees  it 
he  hails  it  with  the  rapture  of  a  realized  dream.     Few  per 


MORTAL  AND  AVENUE  TO  THE  TAJ  IS'c 

sons,  of  the  thousands  who  sigh  over  the  pages  of  Lalla 
Kookh,  are  aware  that  the  "  Light  of  the  Harem  "  was  a  real 
personage,  and  that  her  tomb  is  one  of  the  wonders  of  the 
world.  The  native  miniature  painters  in  Delhi  show  you  he' 
portrait,  painted  on  ivory — a  small,  rather  delicate  face,  witL 
large,  dark,  piercing  eyes,  and  black  hair  flowing  from  undei 
a  scarf  adorned  with  peacock's  feathers. 

The  Taj  is  built  on  the  bank  of  the  Jumna,  rather  more 
than  a  mile  to  the  eastward  of  the  Fort  of  Agra.  It  is  ap- 
proached by  a  handsome  road,  cut  through  the  mounds  left  by 
the  ruins  of  ancient  palaces.  Like  the  tomb  of  Akbar,  it 
stands  in  a  large  garden,  inclosed  by  a  lofty  wall  of  red  sand- 
stone, with  arched  galleries  around  the  interior.  The  en- 
trance is  a  superb  gateway  of  sandstone,  inlaid  with  orna- 
ments and  inscriptions  from  the  Koran,  in  white  marble 
Outside  of  this  grand  portal,  however,  is  a  spacious  quad- 
rangle of  solid  masonry,  with  an  elegant  structure  intended 
as  a  Cu,ravanseraj ,  on  the  opposite  side.  Whatever  may  be 
the  visitor's  impatience,  he  cannot  help  pausing  to  notice  the 
fine  proportions  of  these  structures,  and  the  rich  and  massive 
style  of  their  architecture.  The  gate  to  the  garden  of  the 
Taj  is  not  so  large  as  that  of  Akbar's  tomb,  but  quite  as 
beautiful  in  design.  Passing  under  the  open  demi-vault, 
whose  arch  hangs  high  above  you,  an  avenue  of  dark  Italian 
cypresses  appears  before  you.  Down  its  centre  sparkles  a 
long  row  of  fountains,  each  casting  up  a  single  slender  jet 
On  both  sides,  the  palm,  the  banyan,  and  the  feathery  bam 
boo  mingle  their  foliage ;  the  song  of  birds  meets  your  ear. 
and  the  odor  of  roses  and  lemon-flowers  sweetens  the  air 
Down  !?uch  a  vista,  and  over  such  a  foreground,  rises  the  Taj. 


134  INPIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

It  is  ai  octagonal  building,  or  rather,  a  square  witb  the 
corners  truncated,  and  each  side  precisely  similar.  It  stande 
upon  a  lofty  platform,  or  pedestal,  with  a  minaret  at  each  cor 
ner,  and  this,  again,  is  lifted  on  a  vast  terrace  of  solid  ma- 
sonry. An  Oriental  dome,  swelling  out  boldly  from  the  bas« 
into  nearly  two-thirds  of  a  sphere,  and  tapering  at  the  top 
into  a  crescent-tipped  spire,  crowns  the  edifice,  rising  from  its 
centre,  with  four  similar,  though  much  smaller  domes,  at  the 
corners.  On  each  side  there  is  a  grand  entrance,  formed  by 
a  single  pointed  arch,  rising  nearly  to  the  cornice,  and  two 
smaller  arches  (one  placed  above  the  other)  on  either  hand. 
The  height  of  the  building,  from  its  base  to  the  top  of  the 
dome,  is  262  feet,  and  of  the  minarets,  about  200  feet  But 
no  words  can  convey  an  idea  of  the  exquisite  harmony  of  the 
different  parts,  and  the  grand  and  glorious  effect  of  the  whole 
structure,  with  its  attendant  minarets. 

The  material  is  of  the  purest  white  marble,  little  inferior 
to  that  of  Carrara,  It  shines  so  dazzlingly  in  the  sun,  that 
you  can  scarcely  look  at  it  near  at  liand,  except  in  the  morn- 
ing and  evening.  Every  part — even  the  basement,  the  dome, 
and  the  upper  galleries  of  the  minarets — is  inlaid  with  orna- 
mental designs  in  marble  of  different  colors,  principally  a 
pale  brown,  and  a  bluish  violet  variety.  Great  as  are  the 
dimensions  of  the  Taj,  it  is  as  laboriously  finished  as  one  of 
those  Chinese  caskets  of  ivory  and  ebony,  which  are  now  so 
common  in  Europe.  Bishop  Heber  truly  said  :  "The 
Pathans  designed  like  Titans,  and  finished  like  jewellers,' 
Around  all  the  arches  of  the  portals  and  the  windows — 
around  the  cornice  and  the  domes — on  the  walls  and  in  the 
passages,  are  inlaid  chapters  of  the  Koran,  the  letters  being 


THE    TOMB    OF    KOOR-JEHAN  135 

exquisitely  formed  of  black  marble.  It  is  asserted  tbat  tli€ 
whole  of  the  Koran  is  thus  inlaid,  in  the  Taj,  and  I  can  read- 
ily believe  it  to  be  true.  The  building  is  perfect  in  every 
part.  Any  dilapidations  it  may  have  suffered  are  so  well 
estored  that  all  traces  of  them  have  disappeared. 

I  ascended  to  the  base  of  the  building — a  gleaming  mar- 
ble platform,  almost  on  a  level  with  the  tops  of  the  trees  in 
the  garden.  Before  e  Altering  the  central  hall,  I  descended  to 
the  vault  where  the  beautiful  Noor-Jehan  is  buried.  A  slop- 
ing passage,  the  walls  and  floor  of  which  have  been  so  polished 
by  the  hands  and  feet  of  thousands,  that  you  must  walk  care- 
fully to  avoid  sliding  down,  conducts  to  a  spacious  vaulted 
chamber.  There  is  no  light  but  what  enters  the  door,  and 
this  falls  directly  upon  the  tomb  of  the  Queen  in  the  centre. 
Shah-Jehan,  whose  ashes  are  covered  by  a  simpler  cenotaph, 
raised  somewhat  above  hers,  sleeps  by  her  side.  The  vault 
was  filled  with  the  odors  of  rose,  jasmine,  and  sandal-wood, 
the  precious  attars  of  which  are  sprinkled  upon  the  tomb. 
Wreaths  of  beautiful  flowers  lay  upon  it,  or  withered  around 
its  base. 

These  were  the  true  tombs,  the  monuments  for  display 
being  placed  in  the  grand  hall  above,  which  is  a  lofty  rotunda, 
lighted  both  from  above  and  below  by  screens  of  marble, 
wrought  in  filigree.  It  is  paved  with  blocks  of  white  marble 
ind  jasper,  and  ornamented  with  a  wainscoting  of  sculptured 
tablets,  representing  flowers.  The  tombs  are  sarcophagi  of 
the  purest  marble,  exquisitely  inlaid  with  blood-stone,  agate, 
cornelian,  lapis-lazuli,  and  other  precious  stones,  and  sur- 
rounded with  an  octagonal  screen  six  feet  high,  in  the  opei 
^racery  of  which  lilies,  irises,  and   other  flowers  are  inter 


136  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

wrronght  with  the  most  intricate  ornamental  desigud.  This  if 
also  of  marble,  covered  with  precious  stones.  From  the  re 
semblance  of  this  screen  and  the  workmanship  of  the  tomb  tc 
Florentine  mosaic,  it  is  supposed  by  some  to  have  been  exe- 
i^uted  by  an  Italian  artist ;  and  I  have  even  heard  it  stated 
that  the  Taj  was  designed  by  an  Italian  architect.  One 
(ook  at  the  Taj  ought  to  assure  any  intelligent  man  that  this 
IS  false — ^nay,  impossible,  from  the  very  nature  of  the  thing 
The  Taj  is  the  purest  Saracenic,  in  form,  proportions,  and 
ornamental  designs.  If  that  were  not  sufficient,  we  have  still 
the  name  of  the  Moslem  architect,  sculptured  upon  the 
building. 

I  consider  it  extremely  doubtful  whether  any  Italian  had 
any  thing  to  do  with  the  work,  though  it  is  barely  possible 
that  one  may  have  been  employed  upon  the  screen  around  the 
tombs.  In  the  weekly  account  of  the  expenditures  for  the 
building  of  the  Taj,  there  is  a  certain  sum  mentioned  as  paid 
to  "  the  foreign  stone-cutter,"  who  may  either  have  been 
Italian,  Turkish,  or  Persian.  As  for  the  flowers,  represented 
in  bas-relief  on  the  marble  panels,  it  has  been  said  that  they 
are  not  to  be  found  in  India.  Now  these  flowers,  as  near  as 
they  can  be  identified,  are  the  tulip,  the  iris,  (both  natives  of 
Persia,)  and  the  lotus.  But  I  noticed  a  curious  feature  ir 
the  sculpture,  which  makes  it  clear  to  me  that  the  artist  was 
ft  native.  The  flowers  lack  perspective^  which  would  never 
have  been  the  fault  of  an  Italian  artist  of  Shah  Jehan's 
time — about  the  middle  ol  the  seventeenth  century.  Bishop 
Heber  has  declared  that  he  recognized  Italian  art  in  the 
ornaments  of  the  Taj,  but  he  declared  also  that  its  minarets 
have  no  beauty,  that  the  Fort  of  Agra  is  built  of  granite,  and 


THE    ECHO    UNDER    THE    DOME.  13V 


feU  into  many  other  glaring  errors,  both  of  taste  and  ohserva 
tion,  which  I  have  no  time  to  point  out. 

The  dome  of  the  Taj  contains  an  echo  more  sweet,  pure 
and  prolonged  than  that  in  the  Baptistry  of  Pisa,  which  is 
the  finest  in  Europe.     A  single  musical  tone,  uttered  by  the 
voice,  floats  and  soars  overhead,  in  a  long,  delicious  undula- 
tion,  fainting  away  so  slowly  that  you  hear  it  after  it  is  silent, 
as  you  see,  or  seem  to  see,  a  lark  you  have  been  watching, 
after  it  is  swallowed  up  in  the  blue  of  heaven.     I  pictured  to 
myself  the  effect  of  an  Arabic  or  Persian  lament  for  the 
lovely  Noor  Jehan,  sung  over  her  tomb.     The  responses  that 
would  come  from  above,  in  the  pauses  of  the  song,  must  ro 
semble  the  harmonies  of  angels  in  Paradise.     The  hall,  not 
withstanding  the  precious  materials  of  which  it  is  built,  and 
the  elaborate  finish  of  its  ornaments,  has  a  grave  and  solemn 
effect,  infusing  a  peaceful  serenity  of  mind,  such  as  we  feel 
when  contemplating   a   happy  death.      Stern,  unimaginative 
persons  have  been  known  to  burst  suddenly  into  tears,  on  en- 
tering  it;  and  whoever  can  behold  the  Taj  without  feeling  a 
thriU  that  sends  the  moisture  to  his  eye,  has  no  sense  of 
beauty  in  his  soul. 

The  Taj  truly  is,  as  I  have  already  said,  a  poem.  It  is 
not  only  a  pure  architectural  type,  but  also  a  creation  which 
satisfies  the  imagination,  because  its  characteristic  is  Beauty 
Did  you  ever  build  a  Castle  in  the  Air?  Here  is  one, 
brought  down  to  earth,  and  fixed  for  the  wonder  of  ages;  yet 
80  light  it  seems,  so  airy,  and,  when  seen  from  a  distance,  so 
like  a  fabric  of  mist  and  sunbeams,  with  its  great  dome  soar- 
ing  up,  a  silvery  bubble,  about  to  burst  in  the  sun,  that,  even 
after  you  have  touched  it,  and  climbed  to  its  summit,  yoi: 


138  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

almost  doubt  its  reality.  The  four  minarets  which  surround 
it  are  perfect — nc  other  epithet  will  describe  them.  Yon 
cannot  conceive  of  their  proportions  being  changed  in  any 
way,  without  damage  to  the  general  effect.  On  one  side  of 
the  Taj  is  a  mosque  with  three  domes,  of  red  sandstone,  cov- 
ered with  mosaic  of  white  marble.  Now,  on  the  opposite 
Bide,  there  is  a  building  precisely  similar,  but  of  no  use  what- 
ever, except  as  a  balance  to  the  mosque,  lest  the  perfect  sym- 
metry of  the  whole  design  should  be  spoiled.  This  building 
is  called  the  jowciby  or  "  answer."  Nothing  can  better  illus- 
trate the  feeling  for  proportion  which  prevailed  in  those  dayp 
— and  proportion  is  Art. 

In  comparing  these  masterpieces  of  architecture  with  the 
Moorish  remains  in  Spain,  which  resemble  them  most  nearly 
I  have  been  struck  with  the  singular  fact,  that  while,  at  the 
central  seats  of  the  Moslem  Empire,  Art  reached  but  a  com- 
parative degree  of  development,  here,  in  India,  aiid  there,  on 
the  opposite  and  most  distant  frontiers,  it  attained  a  rapid 
and  splendid  culmination.  The  capitals  of  the  Caliphs  and 
the  Sultans — Bagdad,  Cairo,  Damascus,  and  Constantinople — 
stand  far  below  Agra  and  Delhi,  Granada  and  Seville,  in 
point  of  architecture,  notwithstanding  the  latter  cities  have 
but  few  and  scattered  remains.  It  is  not  improbable  that  the 
Moorish  architects,  after  the  fall  of  Granada,  gradually  made 
their  way  to  the  eastward,  and  that  their  art  was  thus  brought 
to  India — or,  at  least,  that  they  modified  and  improved  the 
art  then  existing.  The  conquest  of  India  by  Baber,  (grand- 
son of  Tamerlane  and  grandfather  of  Akbar,)  is  almost  coeval 
with  the  expulsion  of  the  MoDrs  from  Granada. 

But  the  sun  grows  hot ;  it  is  nearly  noon.     "We  have  spent 


PLAN    OF    SHAH    JEHAN.  13S; 

three  hours  in  and  around  the  Taj,  and  we  must  leave  it 
Nothing  that  is  beautiful  can  be  given  up  without  a  pang,  but 
if  a  man  would  travel,  he  must  endure  many  such  partings. 
I  must  add,  however,  befoie  we  go,  that  on  the  opposite  bani 
of  the  Jumna  there  is  an  immense  foundation-terrace,  where- 
on, it  is  said.  Shah  Jehan  intended  to  erect  a  tomb  for  him 
self,  of  equal  magnificence,  but  the  rebellion  of  his  sons,  and 
his  own  death,  prevented  it.  What  the  gods  permitted  to 
Love,  they  forbade  to  Vanity.  A  shekh,  who  takes  care  of 
the  Taj,  told  me,  that  had  the  Emperor  carried  out  his  design, 
the  tombs  were  to  have  been  joined  by  a  bridge,  with  a  silver 
railing  on  each  side.  He  told  me  that  the  Taj,  with  its  gate- 
ways, mosque,  and  other  buildings  attached,  had  cost  seven 
crores  of  rupees— $35,000,000.  This,  however,  is  quite  im- 
possible, when  we  consider  the  cheapness  of  labor  in  those 
days,  and  I  believe  the  real  cost  is  estimated  at  £3,000,000 
($15,000,000),  which  does  not  seem  exaggerated. 

On  the  same  evening,  after  visiting  the  Taj,  I  left  Agra 
for  Delhi.  My  kind  host,  Mr.  Warren,  whose  hospitality  was 
untiring,  gave  me  letters  to  bis  colleagues  in  other  parts  of 
India,  and  his  lady  furnished  me  with  the  needful  provisions 
for  the  journey.  I  went  by  the  garree-dawk^  which  was  a 
great  improvement  both  upon  the  banghy  and  mail-carts. 
There  were  three  rival  companies  for  the  conveyance  of  pas- 
sengers, by  carriages,  on  the  Grand  Trunk  Road,  as  it  is 
ealled,  extending  from  Calcutta  to  Delhi,  a  distance  of  nine 
hundred  miles.  Four  years  ago,  there  was  no  other  way  of 
travelling,  except  on  horseback  or  in  a  palanquin.  Progress 
m  India,  though  slow,  is  perceptible.  The  garree  resembles 
A  cab,  with  the  space  between  the  back  and  front  seats  filled 


140  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN 

ap  and  covered  with  a  mattrass.  You  provide  yourself  with  a 
quilt  aod  pillow,  stow  jour  baggage  into  the  bottom,  and  tako 
your  ease,  as  if  upon  your  own  bed.  Thus  you  can  travel 
and  even  sleep,  with  a  tolerable  degree  of  comfort.  There 
are  relays  of  horses,  about  six  miles  apart,  and  if  no  accident 
should  happen,  the  garree  rolls  on  at  the  rate  of  seven  miles 
an  hour. 

I  left  Agra  at  eight  o  clock  in  the  evening.  It  was  a  raw, 
misty,  moonlit  night,  and  I  found  an  overcoat  indispensable 
Indeed,  during  the  week  I  spent  in  the  place,  I  suffered  con- 
tinually from  cold.  We  had  fires  in  the  morning  and  even- 
ing, and  I  was  fain  to  get  into  the  sun  at  mid-day,  though 
warned  not  to  expose  myself  to  his  rays.  There  was  no  frost, 
but  the  making  of  ice  was  carried  on  briskly,  and  three  thou 
sand  maunds  (120,000  lbs.)  were  already  stored  in  the  ice- 
house. I  sat  up  to  take  a  last  view  of  the  Fort  and  Jumma 
Musjeed,  paid  half  a  rupee  toll  at  the  bridge  of  boats  over 
the  Jumna,  and  then  lay  down  on  my  mattrass,  to  try  the 
effect  of  my  new  conveyance.  It  was  really  quite  agreeable, 
and  except  when  the  horses  were  changed,  or  took  a  fancy  to 
baulk  and  plunge,  I  could  sleep  without  difficulty.  About 
three  o'clock  in  the  morning,  the  driver  awoke  me  to  an- 
nounce his  budlee,  or  substitute,  (a  hint  for  backsheesh,)  de- 
claring that  we  were  at  Allyghur.  This  was  once  a  strong 
fortress,  and  the  scene  of  a  battle  between  the  English  and 
native  troops.  There  is  a  pillar  erected  to  commemorate  it 
which  pillar  I  saw  in  the  moonlight,  as  we  drove  on  towards 
Delhi 

The  morning  showed  a  splendid  road,  leading  over  a 
boundless  plain,  covered  with  fields  of  wheat,  barley,  mustard 


APPROACH    TO    DELHI.  141 

and  poppies,  and  dotted  with  groves  of  mango  or  tamarind 
trees.  Its  aspect  continued  unvaried  for  hours,  except  thai 
there  was  once  or  twice  a  low  red  hill  in  the  distance,  or  a 
native  town,  with  whitewashed  mosques  and  mouldy  Hindoc 
temples  near  at  hand.  The  road  was  crowded  with  native 
travellers,  with  bullock-carts,  ponies,  and  on  foot,  and  othei 
garrees^  conveying  the  '■^  sahib  log''^  (nobility)  of  the  land, 
passed  me  frequently.  I  noticed  a  sort  of  native  omnibus, 
drawn  by  slow  horses,  wherein  natives,  and  they  only,  are 
conveyed  at  the  rate  of  one  anna  (three  cents)  per  mile.  This 
is  a  recent  invention. 

The  plain  gradually  lost  its  mango  groves,  and  assumed  a 
bleak  and  sterile  appearance.  I  crossed  a  river  by  a  hand- 
some suspension  bridge,  then  the  Eastern  Jumna  Canal,  and 
in  the  afternoon,  when  still  twelve  miles  distant  from  Delhi, 
descried  its  mosques  on  the  horizon.  As  I  approached,  the 
great  fortress-palace  built  by  Shah  Jehan,  (nearly  as  large  as 
the  Fort,  at  Agra,)  rose  from  the  plain.  The  city,  which  lies 
to  the  west  of  it,  was  almost  hidden  by  trees,  which  belt  it 
around.  The  superb  domes  of  the  great  mosque  rose  above 
them,  and  on  either  hand  I  could  see  immense  tombs  and 
other  ruined  edifices,  scattered  far  and  wide  over  the  plain. 
I  crossed  the  Jumna,  which  is  here  as  broad  as  at  Agra,  by  a 
bridge  of  boats,  passed  a  very  old,  crumbling  fortress,  over- 
grown with  trees  and  bushes,  then  the  Imperial  Palace,  now 
occupied  by  His  Majesty^  Akbar  II.,  and  was  finally  set  dowu 
at  the  dawk  bungalow.  The  first  thing  I  did,  on  arriving  in 
the  capital  of  the  Great  Mogul,  was  to  order  dinner,  and  by 
the  time  that  business  was  over,  it  was  too  dark  to  see  anj 
thing  of  the  city.     I  had  &  letter  to  Mr.  Place,  of  the  Delhi 


142  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPap*. 

ki  Gazette^  and  after  making  many  inquiries  of  the  chokcdar 
who  finally  recognized  him  as  being  "  Palace  Sahib  "  and  thfl 
"  chappa-hhana-walla "  (printing-office  fellow  ')  procured  f 
ojuide  to  his  residence.  The  next  morning  I  shifted  my  quar 
fers  to  the  shelter  of  his  hospitable  roofl 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE  CAPITAL  OF  THB  GBEAT  MOGUL 

Delhi— The  Mogul  Empire  at  Preeent— Euins  of  former  Delhis — The  Observatory-  A 
Wilderness  of  Eain — Tomb  of  Sufdur  Jung — The  Khuttub  Minar — Ita  Beauty — Vidw 
from  the  Summit — CJncertainty  of  its  Origin — The  Palace  of  Aladdin — Euins  of  a 
Hindoo  Tf  mple — Tomb  of  the  Emperor  Humayoon — Of  Nizam-ud-deen — Native 
Sam  P.itches— Old  Delhi— Aspect  of  the  Modern  City— The  Chanduee  Choke— Ba- 
yaderes— Delhi  Artisans  and  Artists — The  Jumma  Musjeed — A  Hindoo  Minstrel  and 
his  Songs — The  Palace  of  Akbar  II.— Neglect  and  Desolation — The  Diwan— An 
Elysium  on  Earth— The  Throne  Hall— The  Crystal  Throne— The  Court  of  Akbar  XL 
—A  Farce  of  Empire — The  Gardens — Voices  of  the  Sultanas — Palace  Pastimes, 

Delhi  is  the  Imperial  City  of  India,  having  been  chosen  by 
the  Mogul  Conquerors  as  their  capital,  which  it  thenceforth 
remained,  except  during  the  reign  of  Akbar.  After  the 
death  of  Aurungzebe,  the  power  of  the  Emperors  gradually 
declined ;  the  Mahrattas  and  Rajpoots  laid  waste  and  seized 
upon  their  territories,  and  finally  the  English,  who  found  that 
the  shortest  way  of  effecting  their  object  as  peace-makers  was 
to  become  conquerors,  took  what  fragments  remained  of  the 
Empire.  The  sovereignty,  however,  is  still  acknowledged  and 
treated  with  the  same  outward  ceremonials  of  respect  and 
submission,  as  when  the  Company  owned  nothing  but  a  fac- 
tory in  Bengal,  and  the  Mogul  was  lord  of  all  India.  The 
dominions  of  Akbar  II.,  the  present  Emperor,  the  lineal  do 
scendant  of  the  House  of  Tamerlane  and  his  illustrious  sue 


144  INDIA,    CHIKA,    AKD    JAPAN. 

3essor8,  are  embraced  within  the  walls  of  his  palace,  and  com 
prise  rather  less  than  a  square  half  mile.  The  Government 
allows  fourteen  lacs  of  rupees  ($700,000)  annually  for  tha 
maintenance  of  himself,  his  family,  and  the  princes  attached 
to  his  Court — a  large  and  hungry  retinue,  many  of  whom 
cannot  venture  outside  of  the  walls  without  running  the  risk 
of  being  seized  for  his  debts.  They  are  all  in  debt,  from  the 
Emperor  to  his  lowest  menials,  and  the  Government  allow- 
ance is  always  conveyed  to  the  Palace  under  a  strong  guard, 
to  prevent  its  being  forcibly  carried  off  by  the  creditors. 
This  pitiful  farce  of  Royalty  is  all  that  remains  of  the  Mogul 
Empire — once  the  most  powerful  and  enlightened  sovereignty 
in  Asia. 

The  modern  City  of  Delhi  is  the  latest  of  the  name,  and 
having  been  founded  by  Shah  Jehan,  is  still  called  by  the 
Qatives  Shahjehanabad.  There  were  several  Delhis,  one  of 
the  oldest  of  which  is  the  city  built  by  Toglukh,  and  called 
Toglukhabad,  the  ruins  of  which  lie  about  fifteen  miles  to  the 
south  of  the  present  city.  Another  city,  now  called  Old 
Delhi,  built  during  one  of  the  succeeding  reigns,  is  about  two 
miles  distant.  It  is  still  surrounded  by  lofty  walls,  with  cir- 
3ular  stone  bastions,  and  has  several  thousand  inhabitants. 
But  all  of  the  country  south  of  the  Jumna,  for  an  extent  of 
more  than  ten  miles  in  every  direction,  is  strewed  with  the 
ruins  of  palaces,  mosques,  and  tombs.  Whenever  the  city 
was  taken  and  desolated  in  the  early  wars,  instead  of  rebuild- 
ng  it,  the  inhabitants  founded  a  new  one  in  the  vicinity ;  and 
afterwards,  whenever  the  caprice  of  an  Emperor  prompted 
him  to  erect  a  new  palace,  the  nobles,  and  after  them  the 
Bommon  people,  gradually  shifted  their  residences,  until  thfi 


RUINS    OF    THE    OBSERVATORY.  1 4t 

location  of  the  city  was  quite  changed ;  and  thus,  for  centu- 
ries, Delhi  continued  to  be  a  migratory  capital.  For  the  last 
two  centuries  it  has  been  stationary,  and  will  now  probably 
remain  so.  But  the  ruins  of  the  former  Delhis  cover  a  much 
greater  space  than  that  occupied  by  the  ruins  of  Thebes,  and 
had  they  all  belonged  to  one  city,  it  would  have  been  the 
greatest  in  the  world. 

On  the  day  after  my  arrival,  Mr.  Place  drove  me  in  his 
carriage  to  the  Khuttub  Minar,  the  pride  and  boast  of  Delhi 
as  the  Taj  is  of  Agra.  It  is  eleven  miles  distant,  in  a  south- 
westerly direction.  This,  again,  was  a  day  to  be  remembered 
"We  left  at  an  early  hour,  and  without  entering  the  city,  drove 
along  its  walls,  past  the  Cashmere  and  Lahore  Gates.  It  was 
a  balmy  morning,  with  a  pure,  crystalline  atmosphere,  such  as 
I  had  not  seen  for  weeks.  The  air  seemed  to  be  more  dry 
and  bracing  than  at  Agra,  for  though  the  temperature  was 
lower,  I  felt  the  cold  much  less  keenly.  At  a  short  distance 
from  the  city,  we  came  upon  the  ruins  of  a  magnificent  obser- 
vatory. The  most  prominent  object  was  a  colossal  gnomon, 
built  of  stone,  and  rising  to  the  height  of  near  forty  feet, 
Around  this  was  a  circular  plane,  precisely  parallel  to  that  oi 
the  ecliptic,  and  nearly  a  hundred  feet  in  diameter.  There 
were  also  two  circular  buildings,  with  a  double  row  of  narrow 
slits,  or  embrasures,  around  them,  and  the  remains  of  stone 
tables  in  the  inside,  the  circumferences  of  which  were  divided 
into  degrees.  These  buildings  were  no  doubt  intended  for  ob- 
Berviug  the  rising  and  setting  of  stars,  measuring  their  dis- 
tances from  each  other,  and  other  similar  processes.  The  ob- 
servatory could  only  have  been  used  for  astronomical  observa- 
tions of  a  very  simple  character. 


i46  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

Beyond  this  all  was  ruin.  The  country  was  uneven  and 
covered  in  all  directions,  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach ^  with 
masses  of  stone  and  brick,  the  remains  of  walls  and  arches,  and 
the  tombs  of  princes,  saints  and  scholars  who  flourished  during 
the  Mogul  dynasty.  The  tombs  were  large  square  buildings, 
surmounted  with  domes.  Some  were  merely  of  brick  and 
mortar,  but  others  of  sandstone  and  white  marble,  and  adorned 
with  very  elegant  gateways.  Grass  and  bushes  were  growing 
out  of  the  rifts  of  the  domes,  and  the  seeds  of  the  peepul  tree, 
taking  root  in  the  mortar,  had  in  many  places  split  asunder  the 
strongest  masses  of  masonry.  Duriug  many  miles  of  our  jour- 
ney, there  was  scarcely  a  change  in  the  melancholy  panorama. 
Ruin  succeeded  ruin,  and  between  and  beyond  them  there  were 
but  perspectives  of  ruin  in  the  distance.  The  habitations  ot 
men  were  few  and  scattered,  and  but  little  of  the  soil  showed 
any  appearance  of  cultivation.  The  wild  vulture  hovered  sul- 
lenly over  the  waste,  and  the  fox  and  jackal  sneaked  about  the 
crumbling  walls.  That  beautiful  fragment  of  Persian  poetry, 
recited  by  Mahmoud  the  Conqueror,  as  he  entered  Constanti- 
nople, came  into  my  mind  :  **  The  spider  hath  woven  his  web  in 
the  imperial  palaces;  and  the  owl  hath  sung  her  watch-song  on 
the  towers  of  Afrasiab." 

About  six  miles  from  Delhi  we  came  upon  the  splendid 
tomb  of  Sufdur  Jung,  a  prince  who  was  connected  with  the 
royal  house  of  Oude.  It  resembles  the  Taj  in  design,  but  is 
smaller  and  built  of  a  mixture  of  sandstone  and  marble,  the 
effect  of  which  is  very  beautiful  and  pleasing.  The  present 
King  of  Oude  has  appointed  a  sum  for  its  repair  and  preser- 
vation, but  there  are  no  signs,  in  the  general  air  of  neglect 
which  pervades  the  place,  of  any  money  having  been  thus  ap 


THE    KHDTTUB    MINAB.  147 

plied  I  was  quite  charmed  with  the  beauty  of  the  architec- 
tural details,  in  this  edifice ;  the  arched  windows,  the  vaultea 
ceilings  of  the  chambers,  and  the  designs  of  the  marble  bal- 
conies, were  among  the  finest  things  of  the  kind  which  I  saw 
in  India. 

From  the  top  of  the  tomb  we  first  saw  the  Khuttub  Minar, 
and  after  five  more  miles  of  ruin,  drew  up  in  the  court-yard  of  a 
caravanserai  near  its  base.  The  unusual  form  of  the  Khuttub 
detracts  from  its  height,  when  seen  from  a  distance,  but  greatly 
increases  it  on  a  nearer  view,  by  exaggerating  the  perspective. 
Hence,  unlike  some  towers  which  seem  to  shrink  as  you  ap 
preach  them,  the  Khuttub,  which  at  a  few  miles'  distance  re- 
sembles an  ordinary  factory-chimney,  swells  to  a  sublime  altitude 
when  you  are  in  its  vicinity.  It  is  a  round  pillar,  of  240  feet 
in  height,  the  diameter  at  the  base  being  35  feet,  but  gradually 
diminishing  to  less  than  10  feet  at  the  top.  It  is  divided  into 
five  stories,  the  relative  height  of  which  decreases  in  the  same 
ratio  as  the  diameter  of  the  shaft.  Each  story  has  a  heavy 
cornice  of  the  richest  sculpture,  surmounted  by  a  low  stone 
balustrade.  The  three  lower  stories  are  entirely  of  red  sand- 
stone, fluted,  or  rather  reeded  with  alternate  convex  and  angu- 
lar divisions,  and  belted  at  short  intervals  by  bands  of  Arabic 
inscriptions,  sculptured  in  relief,  and  of  colossal  size.  The  two 
highest  stories  are  mostly  of  white  marble,  without  inscriptions, 
and  deviate  slightly  from  the  diminishing  slope  of  the  pillar, 
whence  it  is  generally  supposed  that  they  were  added  at  a  later 
period.  Some  English  officers,  thinking  to  improve  the  work, 
crowned  it  with  a  grotesque  cupola,  which  was  a  ridiculous  ex- 
crescence on  the  shaft,  until  Lord  Hardiiige  ordered  it  to  b* 
^aken  down. 


i48  INDIA,    CHINA,    AlTD    JAPAN. 

Such  aie  'he  dimensions  and  style  of  the  renowned  Khm 
fcub,  but  they  are  very  far  from  expressing  the  majesty  of  it* 
appearance,  or  the  rich  and  gorgeous  sculpture  with  which  it  is 
adorned.  As  I  stood  a  short  distance  from  the  base,  my  gaze 
ravelling  slowly  from  bottom  to  top,  and  from  top  to  bottom, 
Mr.  Place  declared  it  to  be  the  finest  single  tower  in  the  world, 
and  asked  me  whether  I  did  not  think  so.  I  said,  "  No,"  foif 
just  then  I  had  Giotto's  Florentine  Campanile  and  the  Giralda 
of  Seville  in  my  mind,  and  could  not  venture  to  place  it  above 
them ;  but  the  longer  I  looked,  the  more  its  beauty  grew  upon 
me,  and  after  spending  three  or  four  hours  in  its  vicinity,  I  no 
longer  doubted.  It  is,  beyond  question,  the  finest  shaft  in  the 
world. 

We  mounted  to  the  summit  by  a  winding  staircase  of  378 
steps,  which  became  so  narrow,  as  the  diameter  of  the  shaft 
diminished,  that  some  of  my  corpulent  friends  could  never 
have  reached  the  top.  The  view  was  very  extensive,  and  on 
such  a  bright,  warm  day,  very  beautiful,  in  spite  of  its  deso- 
lation. On  all  sides  there  was  a  brown,  undulating  waste,  dot- 
ted with  ruins,  but  enlivened  by  an  occasional  garden  or  wheat- 
field.  Low,  red  hills  in  the  south  and  west,  a  glimpse  of  a 
blue  lake  in  the  distance,  the  massive  battlements  of  the  de- 
serted City  of  Toglukh  in  the  south-east,  and  the  domes  of 
Delhi  in  the  north,  made  up  the  panorama.  When  the  air  ig 
very  clear,  the  crests  of  the  Himalayas,  two  hundred  miles 
distant,  can  be  discerned  on  the  horizon. 

There  is  a  difference  of  opinion  as  to  whether  the  Khut 
tub  is  of  Hindoo  or  Moslem  origin.  Nothing  positive  is 
known  concerninsr  the  date  or  design  of  its  erection.  Som« 
suppose  it  to  have  been  a  watch-tower,  others  a  monument 


UNCERTAINTY    OF    ITS    ORIGIN.  145 

others  a  minaret,  others  again  a  gigantic  symbol  of  Shiva 
Both  the  Hindoos  and  the  Moslems  claim  it,  the  former  alleg- 
ing that  the  Arabic  inscriptions  were  subsequently  added  by 
the  conquerors.  A  short  distance  to  the  north  there  is  the 
base  of  a  tower  similar  in  design,  but  of  much  grander  di 
mensions,  the  building  of  which  was  relinquished  after  it  had 
been  raised  about  fifty  feet  from  the  ground.  This,  the  Hindoos 
Bay,  was  commenced  by  the  Moslems,  in  order  to  surpass  the 
Khuttub,  which  they  found  impossible.  Without  entering  into 
a  discussion  for  which  I  am  not  prepared,  I  may  venture  to 
say  that  the  three  lowest  stories  appear  to  me  to  be  of  Hindoo 
construction,  both  from  the  singular  manner  in  which  the  shaft 
is  reeded,  and  from  the  absence  of  arches  in  the  openings  for 
air  and  light.  The  arch  (which  was  first  introduced  into  India 
by  the  Moslems)  appears  in  the  upper  stories,  and  it  is  generally 
admitted  that  they  were  added  at  a  later  period.  Some  of  the 
Arabic  inscriptions  refer  to  the  repair  of  the  shaft,  and  dace  from 
the  reign  of  Feroze  Shah,  about  four  and  a  half  centuries  ago. 
The  Khuttub  stands  in  the  midst  of  a  wilderness  of  ruins. 
There  are  the  arcades  of  what  was  once  a  splendid  Hindoo 
temple,  changed  into  the  court-yard  of  a  mosque  which  was 
begun  on  a  magnificent  scale,  but  never  finished,  and  the  con- 
flicting styles  are  mixed  together  in  the  most  incongruous 
manner.  A  college  of  marble  and  sandstone,  in  the  later 
Moorish  style,  stands  on  one  side  of  it,  and  a  few  hundred 
paces  in  an  opposite  direction,  lie  the  ruins — fancy  such  a  thing, 
if  you  can — of  the  palace  of  Aladdin  1  The  genii  have  taken 
back  their  windows  of  ruby  and  pearl,  the  gold  and  ivory  hav€ 
disappeared,  and  there  are  now  only  a  few  shapeless  chambers, 
tottering  to  their  falL     The  remain?  of  the  Hindoo  tempU 


150  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

show  that  it  must  ha^e  been  one  of  the  finest  in  this  part  cf 
India.  The  arcades  are  supported  on  several  hundred  columns, 
scarcely  any  of  which  are  similar.  They  are  covered,  from  cap 
to  pedestal,  with  elaborate  sculpture,  including  figures  of  the 
gods,  of  dogs,  horses,  monkeys  and  elephants,  of  the  chain  and 
bellj  the  pomegranate,  and  other  religious  emblems.  The 
domes  at  the  corners  of  the  quadrangles  are  not  vaulted,  but 
formed  by  flat  stones  laid  diagonally  across  and  overlapping 
each  other,  as  in  the  Cyclopean  remains  of  Italy.  In  the  court 
stands  a  pillar  of  iron  about  eighteen  feet  high,  and  called  by 
the  natives  "  Feroze  Shah's  Walking-Stick."  It  bears  an  in- 
scription in  a  very  ancient  character,  which  long  puzzled  the 
scholars,  but  was  finally  deciphered  by  Mr.  Prinsep.  The  col- 
umn appears  to  have  been  set  up  in  token  of  victory,  by  a  king 
who  flourished  about  a  century  before  the  Christian  Era. 
There  are  others,  similar  to  it,  in  other  parts  of  India. 

There  was  not  suflScient  time  to  visit  Toglukhabad — the 
ruins  of  which,  indeed,  are  only  remarkable  for  their  massivtj 
masonry ;  so,  after  peeping  into  Sir  Theophilus  Metcalf 's  elegant 
country  residence,  which  was  made  out  of  one  of  the  old  tombs, 
we  drove  back  to  Delhi,  taking  the  tomb  of  the  Emperor  Hu- 
mayoon  by  the  way.  This  lies  to  the  south-east  of  the  city, 
adjoining  a  walled  palace  or  fortress,  which  is  still  inhabited. 
The  tomb  is  on  a  grand  scale,  rising  to  the  height  of  one  hun 
Ired  feet,  from  a  noble  terrace  of  solid  masonry,  but  has  a  most 
wretched,  forlorn  air.  The  floors  are  covered  with  litter  and 
filth,  the  marble  screens  broken  and  battered,  the  dome  giveD 
to  bats  and  owls,  and  the  spacious  garden  Las  become  a  wast€ 
of  weeds.  From  the  terrace,  I  counted  upwards  of  fifty  simi 
lar  palaces  of  the   dead,  several  of  them,  if  not  on  a  scale  of 


NATIVE    SAM    PATCHES.  151 

equal  grandeur,  yet  even  superior  in  design  and  in  the  richnesf 
of  their  decoration. 

There  was  an  old  porter,  who  attended  for  the  sake  of  t 
trifle,  by  way  of  backsheesh,  and  on  our  leaving,  urged  us  to 
visit  the  tomb  of  Nizain-ud-deeu.  I  was  beginning  to  feel  tired 
of  so  much  decayed  splendor,  but  my  friend  said  that  the  plac« 
was  really  curious,  and  so  we  drove  back  about  half  a  mile 
Here  there  was  a  small  native  village — perhaps  a  remnant  of 
one  of  the  old  Delhis — crowded  in  among  the  tombs.  Nizam 
ud-deen  had  truly  a  splendid  mausoleum,  of  white  marble  with 
gilded  domes,  and  there  was  an  inclosure  of  marble  fretwork 
of  great  beauty,  surrounding  the  tomb  of  a  daughter  of  the 
present  Emperor.  It  was  a  labyrinth  of  a  place,  with  a  dark, 
deep  tank  in  the  midst,  surrounded  by  high  walls  on  three  sides, 
with  a  flight  of  steps  leading  down  to  the  water,  on  the  fourth 
side.  While  we  were  looking  into  it,  three  or  four  half  naked 
boys  made  their  appearance  on  the  high  roofs  overhanging  the 
tank,  and  off"ered  to  jump  down,  for  a  few  annas  apiece.  I  ac- 
cordingly agreed,  hardly  thinking  they  would  dare  such  a  thing, 
when  three  of  them  boldly  sprang  from  the  highest  platform, 
about  seventy  feet  above  the  water.  The  fearful  picture  they 
made  in  descending  quite  took  away  my  breath,  and  there  was 
a  sound  when  they  struck  the  surface,  as  if  they  had  fallen  upon 
stone.  They  soon  rose  again,  and  came  scrambling  up  the 
steps  to  get  their  money,  complaining,  with  chattering  teeth, 
of  the  coldness  of  the  water. 

In  returning  to  the  city,  we  passed  around  the  walls  of  Old 
Delhi,  which  are  upward  of  eighty  feet  hi^h.  I  was  anxious 
to  see  the  interior,  but  it  was  then  too  late,  and  another  oppor- 
tunity did  not  afterwards  occur.     Mr  Place,  who  had  resided 


152  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

in  Delhi  for  ten  years,  told  me  that  he  had  never  been  insidt 
the  walls. 

Modern  Delhi  was  the  largest  and  most  picturesque  native 
city  I  had  then  seen.  The  houses  are  of  brick  and  stucco 
painted  in  gay  colors,  and  very  few  of  them  less  than  two  stories 
in  height.  They  have  tiled  roofs,  which  gives  the  place,  when 
seen  from  a  minaret,  a  strong  resemblance  to  Smyrna,  and  other 
large  Turkish  towns.  It  covers  an  extent  of  about  two  square 
miles,  but  is  very  compactly  built,  and  the  population  is  reck 
oned  at  near  200,000  souls.  Most  of  the  European  residents 
have  their  bungalows  on  the  heights  outside  of  the  Cashmere 
Gate,  and  near  the  military  cantonments.  There  is  an  aque- 
duct of  hewn  stone  traversing  the  city,  which  supplies  the  in- 
habitants with  drinking  water,  brought  from  a  distance  of  sev- 
enty-five miles,  the  water  of  the  Jumna  being  strongly  impreg- 
nated with  natron,  and  injurious  to  health.  The  palace,  which 
is  surrounded  by  a  deep  moat,  has  a  massive  gateway  and  bar 
bican  in  the  centre  of  its  western  front.  An  open  space  in- 
tervenes between  it  and  the  city,  and  exactly  opposite  the 
gateway  begins  the  Chandnee  Choke — the  Broadway  of  Delhi, 
which  runs  directly  through  the  centre  of  the  city,  to  the 
Lahore  Gate.  It  is  a  noble  avenue,  somewhat  resembling  a 
Parisian  boulevard,  having  a  small  aqueduct,  fringed  with  trees, 
on  each  side  of  the  main  highway,  and  separating  it  from  the 
paved  sidewalks.  The  houses  are  made  picturesque  by  their 
wooden  galleries  and  balconies,,  and  some  of  them  are  verj^ 
pretty  specimens  of  architecture. 

When  the  heat  of  the  day  has  subsided,  and  the  afternoon 
shadows  are  growing  long  and  cool,  all  the  natives  of  anj 
standing  or  pretension  repair  to  the  Chandnee  Choke      Then 


THE    CHANDNEE    CHOKE.  153 

broad  as  it  is,  it  can  scarce!/  contain  the  gay  throngs  that  parade 
up  and  down  its  whole  extent.  There  are  Princes  of  the  Em 
peror's  Court,  mounted  on  brilliantly  caparisoned  elephants ; 
country  Chiefs  on  horseback,  with  a  fierce  air,  and  weapons  in 
bundanee ;  Hindoo  Baboos,  with  the  symbol  of  their  caste 
painted  on  their  foreheads ;  kackrees^  drawn  by  bullocks,  and 
resembling  pagodas  on  wheels,  behind  whose  tassels  and  dusty 
red  curtains  sit  the  discreet  ladies  of  the  land ;  travelling  mer- 
chants, slowly  pacing  along  on  camels;  Sikhs,  with  forked 
black  beards;  long-locked  Afighans,  with  bright,  treacherous 
eyes;  and  Persians,  grave  as  the  maxims  of  Saadi,  besides  a 
vast  retinue  on  foot,  exhibiting  the  most  brilliant  combinations 
of  color  in  their  garments.  The  ordinary  dress  is  pure  white 
but  here  you  see  in  addition,  caps  and  scarfs  of  the  most  vivid 
shades  of  crimson,  blue,  green,  yellow  and  orange,  with  a  pro- 
fusion of  gold  fringe  and  spangles.  The  merchants  sit  cross- 
legged  in  their  shops,  looking  out  on  the  array,  and  chatting 
cheerfully  with  passing  acquaintances,  while  from  the  balconies 
above,  the  Bayaderes,  clad  in  their  most  attractive  finery,  play 
the  part  of  sirens  to  the  crowd  below. 

Here,  as  in  Egypt,  only  females  of  this  class  are  allowed 
to  show  their  faces  unveiled,  and  one  has  no  other  authority 
for  forming  an  opinion  regarding  the  beauty  of  the  sex. 
Among  the  many  faces  I  saw  while  passing  througli  the 
Chandnee  Choke,  there  were  but  two  which  were  really  beau- 
tiful, while  most  of  them  were  so  coarse  and  repulsive  that  I 
fihould  think  there  was  little  danger  of  their  drawing  many 
victims  into  their  toils.  But  there  was  scarcely  a  house,  the 
upper  story  of  which  was  not  occupied  by  these  creatures. 

A.  native  court  in  India,  with  its  army  of  pensioned  idlers,  is 

7* 


154  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN 

a  hot-bed  for  all  forms  of  vice,  and  Delhi  is  only  surpassed  ii 
this  respect  by  Lucknow  and  Hyderabad. 

In  additior  to  the  manufacture  of  shawls  and  scarfs,  k 
which  its  artisans  are  only  inferior  to  those  of  Cashmere  and 
Umritsir,  Delhi  is  celebrated  for  its  jewelry.  The  gold  and 
eilver  smiths  produce  articles  of  exquisite  workmanship,  and 
occasionally  very  fine  jewels  are  to  be  met  with.  Those  of  a 
secondary  value,  such  as  agate,  onyx,  cornelian,  topaz,  car- 
buncle and  moon-stone,  are  very  plentiful,  and  may  be  had  at 
a  trifling  rate.  The  bed  of  the  Jumna  abounds  in  beautiful 
cwnelians,  sards  and  agates.  In  rambling  among  the  shops  I 
saw  several  natives  of  Cashmere,  who  were  exceedingly  hand- 
some men,  with  skin  as  fair  as  a  European's  and  soft  brown  hair. 
They  belonged  evidently  to  the  pure  Caucasian  stock.  A  na- 
tive miniature  painter  showed  me  the  portrait  of  a  Cashmerian 
Sultana,  which  was  a  vision  of  perfect  loveliness.  The  features 
were  like  those  of  a  high-born  English  beauty,  but  with  an  en- 
chanting touch  of  Southern  languor  in  the  dark  eye,  the  droop- 
ing, fringed  lid,  and  the  full,  crimson  lip.  He  had  also  a  portrait 
of  Tootee  "Beegum,  a  Sikh  princess,  whose  style  of  bsauty  was 
thoroughly  Oriental — a  brilliant,  passionate  face,  capable  of  ex- 
pressing the  extremes  of  firmness  and  tenderness.  The  delicacy 
of  touch  and  artistic  truth  of  these  native  artists  is  extraordi- 
nary. I  know  of  but  few  miniature  painters  in  America  who 
could  equal  them.  In  landscapes  they  are  not  so  successful 
'or  though  the  pictures  are  very  laboriously  finished,  and  ^hjw 

fair  idea  of  perspective,  they  lack  color  and  atmosphere. 

The  Jumma  (or  Jooma)  Musjeed  at  Delhi  is  a  noble  struc- 
ture, equalled  only,  as  a  mosque,  by  the  Motee  Musjeed  at 
/Igra.     It  is  on  a  much  larf^er  scale  than  the  latter.    It  stands 


THE    JUMMA    OF    MU8JEED. 


155 


hi  the  middle  of  the  city,  at  the  meeting  of  four  of  the  prin 
eipal  streets,  and  is  raised  on  a  grand  platform  of  masonry 
twenty  feet  high,  with  broad  flights  of  steps  leading  up  on 
each  side.  The  material  is  sandstone  and  white  marble,  the 
three  superb  domes  being  built  of  both,  disposed  in  vertical 
bands,  or  stripes.  At  a  distance,  when  softened  by  the  haze, 
they  resemble  huge  balloons  of  striped  silk,  hovering  over  the 
city.  We  were  allowed  to  walk  rough-shod  through  the  court- 
yard, and  to  climb  one  of  the  minarets,  but  two  Hindoo  pil- 
grims from  Ajmere  were  ignominiously  driven  out,  on  attempt- 
ing to  enter.  We  inquired  the  reason  of  this,  and  were  told 
that  the  "  sahib  "  had  ordered  it  so,  on  account  of  recent 
fights  which  had  occurred  between  the  rival  sects.  The  two 
religious,  nevertheless,  are  blended  in  some  degree  among  the 
low  and  ignorant  classes,  the  shrines  and  sacred  places  of  each 
being  held  in  common  reverence  by  them.  The  two  Rajpoots 
whom  we  saw  ejected,  seemed  vory  much  mortified  that  they 
were  not  allowed  to  visit  this  sanctuary  of  the  Mussulmen. 

A  very  curious  illustration  of  Progress  in  India  was  fur- 
nished to  me  one  day,  during  my  sojourn  with  Mr.  Place. 
We  were  dining  together  in  his  bungalow,  when  a  wandering 
Hindoo  minstrel  came  along  with  his  mandolin,  and  request- 
ed permission  to  sit  upon  the  verandah  and  play  for  us.  I 
was  desirous  of  hearing  some  of  the  Indian  airs,  and  my  host 
therefore  ordered  him  to  perform  during  dinner.  He  tuned 
the  wires  of  his  mandolin,  extemporized  a  prelude  which  had 
some  very  familiar  passages,  and  to  my  complete  astonishment, 
began  singing  :  "  Get  out  of  the  way.  Old  Dan  Tucker ! " 
The  old  man  seemed  to  enjoy  my  surprise,  and  followed  up  his 
performance  with  "  Oh,  Susanna  !  "  "  Buffalo  Gals,"  and  other 


16H  INDIA,    CHINA.    AND    JaIAN 

choice  Ethiopian  melodies,  all  of  which  he  saiis;  with  adniira 
ble  suirit  aud  correctness.  I  addressed  him  in  English,  bui 
found  that  he  did  not  understand  a  word  of  the  lan^ua^e,  and 
had  no  conception  of  the  nature  of  the  songs  he  had  given  us 
He,  had  heard  some  young  English  officers  singing  them  at 
Madras,  and  was  indebted  entirely  to  his  memory  for  both  tha 
melodies  and  words.  It  was  vain  to  ask  him  for  his  native 
Indian  airs :  he  was  fascinated  with  the  spirit  of  our  national 
music,  and  sang  with  a  grin  of  delight  which  was  very  amusing 
As  a  climax  of  skill,  he  closed  with  ^^  Malbrook  se  va-t-en 
guerre^  "  but  his  pronunciation  of  French  was  not  quite  so 
successful.  I  had  heard  Spanish  boatmen  on  the  Isthmus  of 
Panama  singing  "  Carry  me  back  to  ole  Virginny,"  and  Arab 
boys  in  the  streets  of  Alexandria  humming  "  Lucy  Long,"  but 
I  was  hardly  prepared  to  hear  the  same  airs  from  the  lips 
of  a  Hindoo,  in  the  capital  of  the  Great  Mogul. 

It  only  remains  for  me  to  describe  my  visit  to  the  Empe- 
ror's Palace.  Mr.  Place  having  previously  sent  a  messenger 
to  announce  the  visit,  we  found  two  chobdars  (beadles)  with 
silver  maces,  waiting  for  us  outside  of  the  great  gate.  We 
were  allowed  to  drive  through,  the  sentinels  presenting  arms, 
into  a  small  court,  through  a  second  bastioned  gateway,  and 
down  a  stately,  vaulted  passage,  to  a  large,  open  quadrangle 
where  we  dismounted  and  proceeded  on  foot.  The  vaulted 
jrallery  must  have  once  been  an  imposing  prelude  to  the  splen- 
dors of  the  palace,  but  it  is  now  dirty  and  dilapidated,  and  the 
quadrangle  into  which  it  ushers  the  visitor  resembles  a  great 
barn-yard,  filled  with  tattered  grooms,  lean  horses  and  mangy 
elephants.  The  buildings  surrounding  it  were  heavy  massei 
of  brick  and   sandstone,  and  were  rapidly  falling  into  ruin 


AN    EIYSIUM    ON   EARTH. 


167 


But  there  was  another  gate  before  us,  and  I  hastened  through 
it,  hoping  to  find  something  which  would  repay  the  promise  oi 
the  magnificent  exterior.  There  was,  indeed,  the  Palace  oi 
Shah  Jehan,  but  in  what  condition !  Porticoes  of  marble, 
spoiled  by  dust  and  whitewash,  exquisite  mosaics  with  all  the 
precious  stones  gouged  out,  gilded  domes  glittering  over  courte 
heaped  with  filth,  and  populated  with  a  retinue  of  beggarly 
menials.  This  was  all  that  was  left  of  the  Empire  of  Tamer- 
lane and  Akbar — a  miserable  life-in-death,  which  was  far  more 
melancholy  than  complete  ruin. 

The  only  parts  of  the  palace  I  was  allowed  to  see  were  the 
diwan^  the  throne-hall  and  the  mosque — all  of  which  bear  a 
general  resemblance  to  the  palace  of  Akbar,  at  Agra,  but  are 
more  wantonly  despoiled.  The  diwan  is  an  elegant  arcade 
formed  by  three  rows  of  arches,  with 'a  pavilion  of  the  purest 
marble  in  the  centre,  inlaid  with  gold  and  precious  stones. 
Over  this  pavilion  is  the  inscription  in  Persian,  which  Moore 
tias  introduced  in  his  "  Light  of  the  Harem," — "  If  there  bo 
an  Elysium  on  Earth,  it  is  here — it  is  here."  What  an  Elysi- 
um at  present ! 

The  throne-hall  is  a  square  canopy  resting  on  massive 
square  pillars.  It  is  constructed  entirely  of  white  marble, 
very  highly  polished,  the  pillars  being  inlaid  with  cornelian 
and  bloodstone,  and  the  ceiling  richly  gilded.  In  the  centre 
of  this  once  stood  the  famous  peacock  throne,  which  has  re- 
cently been  removed,  and  we  were  unable  to  get  a  sight  of  it 
By  persevering,  however,  we  succeeded  in  seeing  the  crystal 
throne  of  the  Great  Mogul,  which  is  four  feet  in  diameter  by 
two  in  height,  and  the  largest  piece  of  rock  crystal  known  to 
axist.    The  bases  of  the  pillars  in  this  splendid  hall  were  painted 


168  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN 

with  roses  and  tulips,  the  colors  of  which  were  very  well  pi© 
served.  The  mosque — an  imitation  of  that  in  the  palace  a1 
A.gra — did  not  appear  to  have  heard  a  prayer  for  years. 

Akbar  II.  has  reigned  in  this  little  dominion  since  1805 
ind  is  now  upward  of  eighty  years  of  age.  He  was  the  last 
of  the  line,  but  having  four  sons,  the  succession  will  be  contin- 
ued. He  devotes  his  time  to  literature,  amusements  and  sen- 
suality. The  Mussulmen  speak  highly  of  his  literary  acquire- 
ments, and  his  poems  in  the  Persian  language  are  said  by  those 
who  have  read  them  to  possess  considerable  merit.  There  is  a 
Court  newspaper,  entitled  The  Lamp  of  NewSj  published 
within  the  palace,  but  its  columns  are  entirely  devoted  to  the 
gossip  of  the  city,  and  private  scandal.  Until  recently  the  law 
administered  within  the  palace  bore  a  resemblance  to  the 
bloody  rule  of  former  duys.  Persons  who  had  incurred  the 
loyal  displeasure  had  their  hands,  ears  or  noses  cut  off,  and 
were  then  thrust  out  of  the  gates.  Finally  the  English  Kesi- 
dent  at  the  Court  hinted  to  his  Majesty  that  these  things  were 
very  disagreeable  and  ought  to  cease.  "  What !  "  said  the  de- 
scendant of  Tamerlane ;  "  am  I  not  King  in  my  own  palace  ?  " 
"  Undoubtedly,"  blandly  replied  the  Resident ;  "  your  High- 
ness is  the  Conqueror  of  the  "World  and  the  Protector  of 
Princes ;  but  such  a  course  is  not  pleasing  to  the  Governor- 
Geueral,  and  it  would  be  a  great  evil  to  the  world  if  the  friend- 
ship of  two  such  mighty  and  illustrious  Sovereigns  were  to  be 
Interrupted !  "  The  forms  of  respect  to  the  phantom  of  the 
eld  authority  being  thus  preserved,  the  Emperor  instituted  a 
milder  regimen. 

We  finished  our  visit  by  a  walk  in  the  gardens.     Here,  the 
aid  trees,  rankly  overrun  with  parasitic  plants,  with  an  under 


VOICES    OF    THE    SULTANAS.  159 

growth  ot  w'Ad  and  unpruned  rose-bushes,  afforded  a  pleasant 
relief  to  thft  clecay  of  the  imperial  halls.  But  the  garden-pa- 
vilions were  tumbling  down,  the  pools  and  fountain-basins 
were  covered  with  a  thick  green  scum,  and  rank  weeds  grew  in 
11  the  walks.  We  lingered  for  some  time  under  the  windows 
of  the  Zenana^  listening  to  the  clatter  of  female  voices,  and 
trying  to  draw  therefrom  some  inference  as  to  the  features  of 
the  Sultanas.  Alas !  the  tones  were  all  too  shrill  to  have  come 
from  beautiful  lips.  On  our  way  out,  several  sentinels  belong- 
ing to  the  Emperor's  boy-corps  stood  at  the  interior  gates  and 
made  very  respectful  salaams  as  we  passed.  The  poor  little 
half-starvedj  half-clothed  wretches  are  obliged  to  exercise  daily, 
and  often  four  hours  at  a  time.  Most  of  the  male  inmates  of 
the  place  were  perched  upon  the  roofs,  engaged  in  flying  flocks 
of  pigeons,  which  they  made  to  advance  or  recede,  separate 
and  unite  again,  by  uttering  a  peculiar  cry  and  waving  a  long 
rod  with  a  little  flag  on  the  end  of  it.  At  the  gate  we  dis- 
mssed  the  chobdars  with  a  gratuity,  and  I  went  home. 

**  The  spider  hath  woven  hia  wel  in  the  imperial  palaoek  ' 


CHAPTER    XII 

JOURNEY      IN      A      PALANQUIN. 

Deparhiie  for  the  Flimalayas— "Laying  a  Dawk"— Last  View  of  Delhi -A  EtUij 
Nights  ^ua-ters  at  Meerut— The  Dawk  Agent— Hindoo  Punctuality -Meerut— 
Palanquin  Travelling— Tricks  of  the  Bearers— Arrival  at  Roorkhee— Adventures  In 
Search  of  a  Breakfast— First  View  of  the  Himalayas— A  Welcome  Invitation— Roo^ 
khee— The  Ganges  Canal— Its  Cost  and  Dimensions— Method  of  Irrigation— The 
Government  and  the  People — Aqueduct  over  the  Selanee  Eiver— Apathy  of  the 
Natives. 

At  the  close  of  my  stay  in  Delhi,  I  found  that  precisely 
half  the  time  which  I  had  allotted  for  my  transit  through  In 
dia  had  expired,  and  but  a  single  month  remained.  However, 
although  nearly  a  thousand  miles  from  Calcutta,  I  determined 
to  push  on  to  the  Himalayas,  and  get  a  glimpse  of  the  highest 
mountain  in  the  world.  Once  on  the  Grrand  Trunk  Road,  on 
my  return,  I  could  depend  on  making  a  hundred  miles  a  day  by 
the  garree-dawk^  without  excessive  fatigue,  and  there  were 
few  points  of  interest,  except  Allahabad  and  Benares,  to  detain 
me  on  the  way  to  Calcutta.  I  therefore  made  arrangements 
— "  laid  a  dawk  "  is  the  Indian  expression — for  a  trip  to  Lan- 
dowr,  the  highest  point  in  the  Himalayas,  which  can  be  conv*» 


LAST    VIEW    OF    DELHI  161 

niently  reached  during  the  winter  season,  by  way  of  Roorkhefl 
and  Hurdwar.  The  distance  of  Landowr  from  Delhi  is  nearly 
two  hundred  miles,  and  there  is  no  carriage  dawk  beyond 
Meerut,  fifty  miles  from  the  latter  city.  I  was  therefore 
obliged  to  travel  by  palkee  dawk,  or  palanquin.  A  statement 
was  drawn  up  of  the  different  places  I  intended  to  visit,  with 
the  length  of  my  stay  at  each,  and  a  messenger  dispatched  to 
summon  the  bearers  to  be  in  readiness  at  the  proper  time,  at 
the  different  stations  along  the  road.  Twelve  days  were  al- 
lowed for  the  trip  to  Landowr  and  back  to  Meerut.  The  ex- 
penses of  the  dawk,  including  the  hire  of  the  palanquin 
amounted  to  nearly  $60. 

The  garree,  or  carriage,  for  Meerut  called  for  me  on  "Wed 
Qesday  afternoon,  the  26th  of  January,  and  I  took  leave  of  Mr 
Place,  after  having  been  most  hospitably  entertained  by  him 
for  four  days.  The  weather  was  dark,  raw  and  lowering,  and 
I  had  not  crossed  the  tedious  bridge  over  the  Jumna,  before 
the  rain  began  to  fall.  My  last  view  of  Delhi  was  dull  and 
misty;  the  palace  of  Shah  Jehan  loomed  up  more  grandly 
than  ever,  but  the  domes  and  minarets  of  the  Jumma  Mus- 
jeed,  which  need  to  be  touched  with  sunshine,  on  a  background 
of  blue  sky,  lost  half  their  airy  grace.  I  had  a  comfortable 
cart,  with  a  mattress  on  the  bottom,  and  disposed  my  car- 
pet-bags in  such  a  way  as  to  make  it  as  easy  as  an  arm-chair. 
The  rain  increased,  however,  the  roads  became  wet  and  slip- 
pery, and  the  plain  had  a  dull  November  look,  which  was  very 
dreary.  I  was  delayed  by  the  obstinacy  of  the  horses,  who 
finding  the  cart  a  little  heavier  than  usual,  did  their  best  to 
disable  it.  Night  soon  came  on,  the  rain  rattled  on  the  roof, 
and  drawing  my  quilt  around  me,  I  lay  down  Hud  slept  uutU 


162  INDIA,    CIUNA,    AND    JAPAN. 

aroused  by  the  driver,  asking  where  he  should  take  me,  for  w« 
had  reached  Meerut.  I  directed  him  to  go  to  the  ^^ punch 
jhur''''  (punch  house),  as  a  hotel  is  termed,  in  this  part  oi 
India.  There  I  found  consummars^  chokedars,  and  the  othei 
varieties  of  servants  usually  attached  to  a  bungalow,  but  no 
one  who  spoke  English.  I  did  my  best  to  get  a  note  conveyed 
to  the  person  who  was  to  furnish  me  with  a  palanquin  and 
bearers  the  next  morning,  but  found  the  thing  quite  impossible. 

I  arose  betimes,  and  set  out  to  find  the  agent,  for  seven 
tt'olock  was  the  time  appointed  for  starting.  After  endless 
r^uestions  and  a  walk  of  three  miles,  I  was  finally  directed  to  a 
mean  house,  in  the  door  of  which  stood  one  of  the  meanest 
individuals  in  appearance,  that  I  ever  beheld.  He  was  a  half- 
caste,  of  a  dirty  complexion,  unwashed,  pitted  with  the  small- 
pox, limping,  and  dressed  in  a  vile  cloak  covered  with  greace 
and  patches.  He  informed  me  that  the  bearers  were  ready, 
and  pointed  to  the  palanquin,  which  was  standing  in  the  veran- 
dah.. The  man's  appearance  made  me  suspicious,  and  though 
there  was  really  a  palanquin,  I  feared  that  before  travelling  far 
I  should  find  it  to  be  a  little  buggy.  He  promised  to  send  it 
to  the  hotel,  whither  I  hastened,  expecting  to  find  breakfast 
ready  as  I  had  ordered.  Vain  hope !  There  is  no  equiva- 
lent for  "  punctuality  "  in  the  Hindostanee  tongue.  I  waited 
an  hour;  the  palanquin  arrived;  I  stormed  in  English,  for, 
unfortunately,  I  knew  no  anathemas  in  their  language,  but  the 
20oks  were  miracles  of  calmness  and  deliberation.  When 
breakfast  finally  came,  I  was  obliged  to  eat  a  few  mouthfuls 
liurriedly  and  depart,  lest  I  should  give  the  bearers  along  the 
toad  a  chance  to  claim  demurrage. 

Meerai  resemble*?  the  other  Indian  cantonments  in  mosf 


PALANQUIN    TRAVELLING.  163 

respects.  It  has  a  number  of  handsome  bungalows,  besides  a 
church  with  a  very  ambitious  spire.  Owing  to  an  abundance 
of  good  water,  its  gardens  and  orchards  are  much  more  luxu- 
riant than  those  of  Agra  and  Delhi.  It  must  be  both  an  agree 
abe  and  healthy  place  of  residence.  The  sky  was  clear,  aftei 
the  rain  of  the  previous  day,  and  the  air  delightfully  cool  an«J 
bracing,  though  colder  than  I  desired.  I  rode  with  the  palan- 
quin windows  open,  and  found  that  by  propping  myself  against 
a  carpet-bag,  I  could  get  a  tolerable  view  of  the  country  on 
both  sides.  There  was  little  variety  in  the  scenery,  as  I  was 
still  on  the  great  Plain  of  Hindostan.  I  noticed,  however, 
some  change  in  the  vegetation ;  the  tamarind  and  taree-palm 
were  but  rarely  to  be  seen ;  the  peepul  and  saul  were  the  prin- 
cipal trees.  The  wheat  was  much  more  backward  than  in  the 
warmer  plains  about  Agra. 

I  had  eight  bearers,  four  of  whom  only  carried  the  palan- 
quin at  one  time.  They  relieved  each  other  every  half-mile, 
and  all  of  them  gave  place  to  a  new  set,  at  the  end  of  the  stage, 
which  varied  from  eight  to  ten  miles.  There  was,  besides,  a 
mussalchee,  or  torch-bearer,  who,  during  the  day,  carries  the 
superfluous  garments  of  the  bearers,  and  demands  backsheesh 
when  they  are  changed.  The  amount  given  is  four  annas  (12^ 
cents),  to  each  set  of  bearers.  They  usually  average  about 
four  miles  an  hour  on  good  roads,  carrying  the  palanquin  along 
on  a  slow,  sliding  trot,  every  step  of  which  they  accompany 
with  a  grunt.  I  do  not  know  a  more  disagreeable  method  of 
travelling.  It  is  as  necessary  to  preserve  a  nice  equilibrium  as 
in  a  Turkish  caique,  and  as  you  lie  at  full  length  in  a  narrow 
Dox,  you  cannot  turn  your  cramped  limbs  without  thrusting 
four  body  too  far  on    one  side  or  the    other.      The  jolting 


l64  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAFAN. 

motion  of  the  palanquin  is  unpleasant,  and  tlie  meast  red  grunu 
of  the  bearers  give  jou  the  idea  that  they  are  about  to  drop 
you,  through  fatigue,  while  nothing  can  be  more  annoying  thaL 
their  constant  stoppage  to  shift  the  pole  from  one  shoulder  to 
another.  Sometimes  they  groan  out.  ^'-  juldee  jaof''  (gt 
quickly !)  and  when  they  meet  any  body  in  the  road,  they  cry ; 
"  Take  care  !  we  have  a  great  Lord  inside  !  " 

Thus  I  jogged  on  all  day,  through  a  tame  and  monotonous 
country.  I  looked  continually  to  the  north,  for  a  glimpse  of 
the  Himalayas,  and  once  thought  I  saw  some  sharp  white  peaks^ 
but  they  gradually  moved  together  and  changed  their  forms. 
Toward  evening  my  bearers  stopped  at  a  village,  which  they 
said  was  the  end  of  their  chokee  (stage),  but  that  the  new 
bearers,  who  ought  to  have  been  in  waiting,  had  gone  on  to 
another  village,  about  a  mile  distant.  To  avoid  the  delay  of 
waiting  their  return,  they  offered  to  take  me  on  to  the  village 
for  an  additional  backsheesh ;  and  I  consented.  When  I  arri- 
ved, however,  and  found  the  new  bearers  in  readiness,  I  asked 
them :  "  Is  this  the  beginning  of  your  chokee^  or  the  village 
behind  us  ?  "  "  This  is  the  place,"  they  all  exclaimed ;  where- 
upon the  others  were  quite  abashed  at  finding  their  trickery 
exposed,  and  their  expected  backsheesh  lost.  At  sunset  1 
passed  through  Mozuffernuggur,  a  large  town  about  thirty-six 
miles  from  Meerut.  At  the  next  chokee  beyond  it,  I  was 
delayed  an  hour  and  a  half  by  the  non-appearance  of  the  bear- 
ers. My  men  began  to  shout,  and  the  cries  were  taken  up  by 
one  person  and  another,  till  they  seemed  to  radiate  through 
K^e  whole  country,  and  fill  the  air,  far  and  near.  The  meu 
were  at  last  gathered  together,  and  we  went  on  by  t(»rch-light 
The  night  was  clear  and  cold,  and  I  lay  muffled  up,  crampe<) 


ADVENTURES    IN    SEARCH    OF    A    BREAKFAST.  165 

and  shivering,  until  we  arrived  at  the  station  of  Roorkhee. 
three  hours  past  midnight. 

There  was  a  Government  bungalow,  to  which  the  bearers 
tonveyed  me,  awoke  the  sleepy  chokedar,  kindled  a  cecoa-nut 
amp,  and  left  me.  I  removed  every  thing  from  the  palanquii 
0  the  room,  fastened  the  doors,  and  then  lay  down  upon  the 
charpoy  (bedstead),  where  I  slept  until  morning.  On  awaking, 
my  first  sensation  was  that  of  hunger,  for  I  had  fasted  twenty- 
four  hours,  so  I  summoned  the  chokedar,  and  ordered  him  to 
get  breakfast  for  me.  "  Bohut  achch\^^  (very  well,)  said  he, 
and  then  went  on  to  make  some  statement,  the  most  prominent 
words  of  which  were  ^^  ghurrecb  purwar.-''  I  asked  him  for 
tea,  for  eggs,  for  fowls,  but  though  he  always  replied  "  verj 
well,"  there  was  sure  to  follow  something  about  "  ghurreeb 
purwar."  At  last  I  decided  that  these  words  referred  to  some 
•necessary  article,  without  which  he  could  not  provide  break- 
fast. I  thought  of  the  Arabic  words  gurra,  a  gourd,  and 
gecrbeh,  a  water-skin,  and  it  was  quite  plain  that  "  ghurreeb 
purwar"  must  mean  either  a  tea-kettle  or  a  frying  pan. 
"  Well,"  said  I,  when  he  had  repeated  the  words  for  the  twen- 
tieth time,  "  I  have  no  ghurreeb  purwar ;  you  must  get  one. 
Go  and  borrow  one  from  the  Sahibs  !  "  The  man  stared  at  me 
in  a  wild  way,  and  went  off,  but  not  to  provide  breakfast.  I 
learned  afterwards  that  "  ghurreeb  purwar  "  was  a  title  ad- 
dressed to  myself,  and  means  "  Protector  of  the  Poor."  It  ig 
addressed  to  all  Europeans  in  these  parts,  and  no  exclusive 
honor  is  meant  thereby,  as  Bishop  Hebor  supposed,  when  he 
wrote  in  his  Journal,  that  the  people,  on  account  of  h.s  kindnesi 
bo  them,  had  bestowed  upon  him  the  title  of  "  Protector  of 
the  Poor." 


166  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN 

While  anxiously  waiting  for  breakfast,  I  amused  myself 
bj  reading  a  list  of  the  books  in  the  Library  of  the  Ganges 
Oaual  at  Roorkhee,  which  hung  upon  the  wall.  Who  would 
have  guessed  that  an  humble  author,  in  scrambling  about  the 
world,  should  find  one  of  his  works  in  the  furthest  corner  of 
India,  at  the  very  foot  of  the  Himalayas  ?  Yet  so  it  was  ;  and 
the  fact  made  the  place  less  inhospitable,  in  spite  of  my 
hunger.  Where  my  words  have  already  been,  I  thought,  shall 
not  my  body  find  nourishment  ?  and  while  trying  to  reason 
myself  into  the  impression  that  there  was  a  breakfast  some- 
where in  Roorkhee,  which  it  was  destined  that  I  should  eat,  I 
walked  out  upon  the  verandaL 

It  was  about  eight  in  the  morning:  an  atmosphere  of 
crystal,  and  not  a  cloud  in  the  sky.  Yet  something  white  and 
shining  glimmered  through  the  loose  foliage  of  some  trees  on 
my  right  hand.  My  heart  came  into  my  mouth  with  the  sud 
den  bound  it  gave,  when,  after  plunging  through  the  trees  likft 
one  mad,  tumbling  into  a  ditch  on  the  other  side,  and  scramb- 
ling up  a  great  pile  of  dirt,  I  saw  the  Himalayas  before  me  I 
Qnobscured  by  a  single  cloud  or  a  speck  of  vapor,  there 
stood  revealed  the  whole  mountain  region,  from  the  low  range 
of  the  Siwalik  Hills,  about  twenty  miles  distant,  to  the  lofti- 
est pinnacles  of  eternal  snow,  which  look  down  on  China  and 
Thibet.  The  highest  range,  though  much  more  than  a  hundred 
miles  distant,  as  the  crow  flies,  rose  as  far  into  the  sky  as  the 
Alps  at  forty  miles,  and  with  every  glacier  and  chasm  and 
spire  of  untrodden  snow  as  clearly  defined.  Their  true  mag- 
nitude, therefore,  was  not  fully  apparent,  because  the  eye 
refused  to  credit  the  intervening  distance.  But  the  exquisite 
loveliness  of  the  shadows  painted  by  the  morning  on   thosf 


FIRST     \1L\V    OF    THE    HIMALAYAS.  167 

ignormous  wastes  of  snow,  and  the  bold  yet  beautiful  outlines 
of  the  topmost  cones,  soaring  to  a  region  of  perjetual  silence 
and  death,  far  surpassed  any  distant  view  of  the  Alps  or  any 
other  mountain  chain  I  ever  saw.  As  seen  from  Roorkhee 
the  Himalayas  present  the  appearance  of  three  distinct  ranges. 
The  first,  the  Siwalik  Hills,  are  not  more  than  two  thousand 
feet  in  height ;  the  second,  or  Sub-Himalayas,  rise  to  eight  or 
nine  thousand,  while  the  loftiest  peaks  of  the  snowy  range, 
visible  from  this  point,  are  25,000  feet  above  the  sea.  Far  in 
the  north-west  was  the  Chore,  an  isolated  peak,  which  is  almost 
precisely  the  height  of  Mont  Blanc,  but  seemed  a  very  pigmy 
in  comparison  with  the  white  cones  beyond  it. 

I  had  a  letter  to  Col.  Cautley,  the  Superintendent  of  the 
Ganges  Canal,  and  hastened  to  deliver  it  in  time  to  share  his 
breakfast.  He  was  not  in  Roorkhee,  as  it  happened ;  but  I 
learned  from  tne  servant  that  there  was  a  "  sahib  "  living  in 
the  house,  and  sent  the  letter  in  to  him.  The  "  sahib ''  did 
just  what  I  had  hoped,  that  is,  he  came  out  and  asked  me  in  to 
breakfast  with  him — which  I  was  but  too  ready  to  do  The 
letter  was  forwarded  to  Capt.  Goodwyn,  the  next  in  command, 
and  before  the  meal  was  concluded  I  received  a  kind  note  froro 
that  officer,  otFering  me  a  room  in  his  house. 

Roorkhee  has  suddenly  risen  into  note  from  being  the  head* 
quarters  of  the  Engineers  employed  on  the  Ganges  CanaL  A 
large  workshop  ts  in  operation,  and  the  Government  has  just 
established  a  College  for  educating  Civil  Engineers.  The 
Europeans  are  comparatively  few,  and  the  native  town  is  in- 
habited almost  entirely  by  the  workmen  employed  on  the 
Canal.  It  is  a  pleasant,  healthy  place,  scattered  over  a 
rising  ground,  overlooking  the  Valley  of  the  Ganges,  and  en- 


168  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAH. 

joys  one  of  the  finest  prospect&  of  the  Himalayas  to  be  hac 
from  any  part  of  the  plains.  A  very  h.indsome  Gothic  Church 
(designed  by  Mr.  Price,  the  gentleman  to  whom  I  was  in- 
debted for  a  breakfast)  had  been  recently  tree  ted,  and  this, 
with  the  open,  turfy  common  in  front  of  the  town,  and  the 
ibsence  of  tropical  trees,  reminded  me  strongly  of  21ngland. 

The  Ganges  Canal  is  one  of  the  grandest  undercakinga 
oi  "ihe  present  day.  It  has  been  constructed  under  the  du^c- 
tio>-  anJ  at  the  expense  of  the  Government,  mainly  for  tht 
purpose  if  irrigating  the  level,  fertile  tracts  between  the 
Ganges  ai.d  Jumna,  but  also  to  afford  the  means  of  transport- 
ing the  produr-uoks  ^f  the  country  to  the  head  of  navigation 
on  the  former  river,  at  Ct:w.^pore.  The  labor  of  more  than 
ten  years  had  been  expended  on  it  at  the  time  of  my  visit,  and 
four  or  five  years  more  were  considered  necessary  to  complete 
it.*  It  will  be  eighty  feet  wide,  varying  in  depth  according 
to  the  season,  but  probably  averaging  eight  feet,  and,  including 
its  numerous  branches,  will  have  an  extent  of  eight  hundred 
miles !  It  taps  the  Ganges  at  Hurdwar  (eighteen  miles  to  the 
north-west  of  Roorkh),  and  returns  to  it  again  at  Cawnpor,  a 
distance  of  more  than  four  hundred  miles.  The  total  cost,  when 
completed,  will  not  fall  mjich  short  of  £2,000,000,  but  it  is 
expected  to  yield  a  return  of  £500,000  annually.  This  cal- 
culation is  based  on  the  success  of  the  East  and  West  Jumna 
Canals,  which  are  comparatively  on  a  small  scale.  The  former 
of  those  was  finished  in  1825,  since  when  it  has  paid  all  the 
expense  of  construction,  together  with  an  annual  interest  of  5 

*  The  water  was  let  into  the  main  trunk  of  the  Ganges  Canal  Id 
"Jie  summer  of  1854,  and  the  work,  so  far  as  it  has  gone  into  operation 
is  perfectly  successful 


SYSTEM    OF    IRRIGATIOJS.  169 

per  cent  thereupon,  and  £320,000  clear  profit  The  latter, 
finished  a  few  years  since,  has  paid  the  cost  and  interest,  with 
£30,000  profit. 

The  use  of  the  water  for  irrigation  is  not  obligatory  upor 
the  inhabitants,  but  they  are  generally  quite  willing  to  avail 
themselves  of  it.  There  are  three  ways  in  which  it  is  fur- 
nished to  tliem :  First,  by  villages  or  companies  of  cultivators 
contracting  for  as  much  as  they  want;  secondly,  by  a  fixed  rate 
per  acre,  according  to  the  kind  of  grain,  rice  being  the  most 
expensive  and  cotton  the  cheapest;  and  thirdly,  by  renting 
an  cutlet  of  a  certain  fixed  dimension,  at  so  much  per  year 
Along  the  Jumna  Canals  the  people  do  not  wait,  as  formerly,  to 
see  whether  the  crops  will  be  likely  to  succeed  without  irri 
gation,  but  employ  it  in  all  seasons,  and  are  thereby  assured 
of  a  constant  return  for  their  labor.  The  Ganges  Canal  will 
be  of  vast  importance  in  increasing  the  amount  of  grain  pro- 
duced in  Hiudostan,  the  design  of  the  Government  being  to 
render  famine  impossible.  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  such  a 
dreadful  spectacle  as  the  famine  of  1838,  when  hundreds  of 
thousands  perished  from  want,  will  never  again  be  witnessed 
in  India.  That  such  things  have  happened  is  the  natural  re- 
sult of  the  tenure  by  which  land  is  held  and  cultivated.  The 
Government  is  the  proprietor,  and  the  zemindars^  or  tenants 
pay  75  per  cent,  of  the  assessed  value  of  the  products.  Thf 
land  is  sub-let  by  the  zemindars  to  the  ryots,  or  laborers,  and 
these,  the  poor  and  ignorant  millions  of  India,  of  course  gam 
little  or  nothing  beyond  a  bare  subsistence.  If  the  crops  fail, 
i;hey  have  nothing  at  all.  The  Ganges  Canal  will  therefore,  tc 
a  certain  extent,  prevent  famine,  by  assuring  perennial  crops. 
It  will  enrich  the  Government,  bccnnso.  in  addition  to  the  sale 
8 


170  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAK. 

of  the  water,  it  will  increase  the  rent  of  the  lands  as  the^ 
become  more  productive,  but  it  will  very  slightly  mitigate  the 
condition  of  the  ryots. 

The  greatest  modern  work  in  India  is  the  Canal  Aqueduct 
over  the  Selanee  River,  at  Roorkhee.  It  is  entirely  constructed 
of  brick,  and,  including  the  abutments,  is  about  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  in  length,  by  a  hundred  and  eighty  feet  in  breadth. 
There  are  sixteen  arches,  of  about  seventy  feet  span,  and 
rising  twenty  feet  above  the  river,  the  foundations  of  the 
piers  being  sunk  twenty  feet  below  the  bed.  The  arches  are 
four  feet  thick,  in  order  to  support  the  immense  pressure  of 
such  a  body  of  water.  Hundreds  of  workmen  were  employed 
on  the  structure,  and  a  small  railroad  had  been  laid  down  for 
bringing  the  materials.  A  locomotive  was  imported  from 
England,  but,  through  the  neglect  of  the  native  firemen,  soon 
became  a  wreck.  During  the  short  time  it  was  in  operation  a 
great  number  of  accidents  occurred.  It  was  found  almost 
impossible  to  keep  the  natives  off  the  track.  Their  stupidity 
in  this  respect  is  astonishing.  If  you  have  a  hard  heart  you 
may  run  over  as  many  as  you  like  in  a  morning's  ride,  for  they 
will  assuredly  not  get  out  of  your  way  unless  you  force  them 
to  it. 


CHAPTER    XIII 

HURDWAR      AND      THE      GANGEH. 

Sative  Workmen  at  Roorkhee — Their  Wages — Departure  for  Hurdwar— AfternoM 
View  of  the  Himalayas — Peaks  visible  from  Roorkhee — Jungle- grass — Jowalaporc 
—Approach  to  the  Siwalik  Hills — First  View  of  the  Gauge— Ganges  Canal— Pre- 
diction of  the  Brahmins— An  Arrival— The  Holy  City  of  Hurdwar- Its  Annual 
Fair — Appearance  of  the  Streets — Tbe  Bazaar — A  Himalayan  Landscape — Travel  in 
the  Jungle— A  Conflagration— The  Jungle  by  Torch-Light — Arrival  at  Dehra. 

Before  leaving  Roorkhee  I  paid  a  visit  to  the  workshops, 
where  I  was  much  struck  with  the  skill  and  aptness  of  the 
natives  employed.  The  shops  are  instituted  for  the  purpose 
of  constructing  the  implements  used  on  the  Canal  works 
The  machinery  is  driven  by  steam  and  conducted  entirely  bj 
natives  under  European  superintendence.  One  of  the  depart- 
ments is  devoted  to  the  construction  of  mathematical  instru- 
ments, which  are  fully  equal  to  those  of  English  manufacture. 
"  The  natives,"  to  use  the  words  of  the  Superintendent 
"  learn  in  one  sixth  of  the  time  which  an  English  workman 
vould  require."  Their  imitative  talent  is  wonderful,  but  they 
totally  lack  iuvei;tion.  This  makes  them  a  people  easily  im- 
proved, as  they  are  anxious  to  learn,  but  never  knowing  more 
than  is  taught  them,  never  using  their  knowledge  as  a  lamp  to 
explore  the  unknown  fields  of  science  or  art.     These  workmen 


l72  INDIA      CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

are  paid  from  four  to  eight  rupees  a  month,  according  to  theii 
skill,  but  the  ordinary  laborers  on  the  Canal,  though  hired  at 
four  (S'2),  do  not,  owing  to  their  indolence,  generally  recciv« 
more  than  two  rupees  per  month,  out  of  which  they  find  them- 
selves. It  is  said  that  one  rupee  (fifty  cents,)  monthly,  covers 
all  their  necessary  expenses. 

After  two  days  at  Roorkhee,  I  summoned  the  bearers  to 
be  in  readiness  at  sunrise,  the  next  morning.  Capt.  Goodwyn 
was  kind  enough  to  see  that  all  the  arrangements  were  com- 
plete, besides  ordering  me  an  early  breakfast,  and  his  amiable 
lady  provided  me  with  a  tiffin,  which  I  was  to  eat  in  Col. 
Cautley's  bungalow  at  Hurdwar.  The  morning  was  bright  and 
cold,  and  as  I  was  borne  down  the  bank  to  the  Selanee  River, 
I  noticed  that  a  light  rime  lay  upon  the  grass.  The  bearers 
shivered  as  they  waded  through  the  chill  water,  though  their 
bare  legs  were  nearly  as  tough  and  leathery  as  an  elephant's. 
I  opened  the  palanquin  so  that  I  might  look  on  the  Hima- 
layas, as  I  lay,  but  their  cold  morning  gleam  was  not  so  beau- 
tiful as  the  warm  red  flush  which  had  lain  on  them  during 
the  previous  afternoon  and  evening.  I  had  accompanied  my 
hosts  to  the  cricket-ground,  where  there  was  a  match  between 
the  military  and  the  civilians.  The  game  was  explained  to 
me,  and  politeness  required  that  I  should  take  an  interest  in 
its  progress ;  but  my  whole  soul  had  gone  off  to  the  Himalayas, 
and  I  could  see  or  think  of  nothing  else.  I  was  most  struck 
with  their  exquisite  beauty  of  form  and  coloring.  The  faint- 
est pink  of  the  sea-shell  slept  upon  the  steeps  of  snow,  and 
their  tremendous  gulfs  and  chasms  were  filled  with  pale-blue 
shadows,  so  delicately  pencilled  that  I  can  only  compare  thenc 
to  the  finest  pamting  on  ivory.     When  T  reflected  that  each  0/ 


THE    HIMALAyAS:     FROM    ROORKHEE.  172 

those  gentle  touches  of  blue  wat  a  tremendous  gorge,  '  wher6 
darkness  dwells  all  day ;  "  that  each  break  in  the  harmonioua 
flow  of  the  outline  on  the  sky — like  the  hi  3ak  in  a  cadence  of 
music,  making  it  sweeter  for  the  pause — was  a  frightful  i»re- 
cipice,  thousands  of  feet  in  depth  and  inaccessible  to  human 
foot,  I  was  overpowered  by  the  awful  sublimity  of  the  picture 
But  when  their  color  grew  rosy  and  lambent  in  the  sunset,  I 
oould  think  of  nothing  but  the  divine  beauty  which  beamed 
through  them,  and  wonder  whether  they  resembled  the  moun- 
tains which  we  shall  see  in  the  glorified  landscapes  of  the 
future  world. 

The  snowy  chain  visible  from  Roorkhee  extends  from 
Nepaul  to  the  borders  of  Cashmere,  and  includes  some  ol 
the  highest  peaks,  though  not  the  very  highest,  in  the  Hima- 
layas. In  front  rise  the  Gungootree  and  Jumnootree,  the 
sources  of  the  Jumna  and  Granges,  about  25,000  feet  high ; 
further  to  the  eastward,  Buddhreenath,  a  little  lower ;  and  in 
the  distant  north-east,  the  summit  of  Nundidevi,  which  has  an 
altitude  of  nearly  26,000.  Dwalagheri,  Chumalari,  and  a 
third  peak  which,  according  to  recent  measurements,  is  fully 
30,000  feet  above  the  sea,  are  further  to  the  eastward.  There 
is  generally  much  cloud  and  mist  upon  them  during  the  winter 
season,  and  at  Roorkhee  they  told  me  there  had  not  been  so 
fine  a  view  of  them  for  two  months,  as  on  the  morning  of  my 
arrival. 

After  crossing  the  Selanee  River,  I  was  carried  on  through 
a  low  tract,  at  first  covered  only  with  long  jungle  grass,  ten 
Poet  high,  but  afterward  studded  with  picturesque  topes,  oi 
groves,  of  mango  and  peepul  trees.  Being  sholt^red  by  the 
Siwalik  Hills,  and  inuudated  by  the  overflow  of  the  Gangea 


174  INDIA     CHUTA,    AKD   JAPAJT. 

the  vegetation  was  very  luxuriant,  and  had  more  of  i.  tropical 
character  than  upon  the  plains.  In  the  dense  jungles  along 
the  Ganges,  about  fifteen  miles  from  Roorkhee,  there  is  ao 
abundance  of  tigers,  leopards  and  wild  elephants.  The  deer, 
antelope  and  wild  boar  are  also  frequent.  On  my  way  to 
Hurdwar  I  passed  through  Jowalapore,  a  queer  old  town  which 
appeared  to  have  some  share  in  the  sanctity  of  the  neighboring 
city.  I  sat  up  in  the  palanquin  to  have  a  better  view  of  the  place 
and  people,  as  I  was  borne  through  its  tortuous  streets.  There 
were  a  number  of  temples  and  caravanserais,  and  the  roofs  of 
the  houses  were  tenanted  by  sacred  apes,  whose  posteriors  were 
painted  of  a  bright  crimson  color.  The  inhabitants  looked 
at  me  with  curiosity,  and  some  of  them  made  very  respectful 
salaams.  There  was  a  bazaar  and  market  in  full  operation, 
Nhich  were  almost  an  exact  counterpart  of  those  of  the 
smaller  Egyptian  towns.  Among  the  crowd  I  noticed  two 
handsome,  fair-skinned  Cashmerians. 

The  road  now  approached  the  Siwalik  Hills,  which  were 
steep  and  covered  with  jungle  to  the  summit.  The  gorge 
through  which  the  Ganges  forces  its  way  at  Hurdwar  made 
an  abrupt  gap  in  their  chain,  revealing  a  striking  view  of  the 
second  or  Sub- Himalayas,  which  now  completely  hid  the 
snowy  peaks.  It  was  nearly  noon  by  this  time,  and  the  day 
was  warm  and  summer-like.  The  bearers  threaded  the  shade 
of  the  mango  topes,  crossed  the  canal,  passed,  without  enter- 
ing, the  town  of  Khunkhul,  and  finally  set  me  down  at  Col. 
Cautley's  bungalow,  at  Myapore.  This  is  a  little  village 
about  half  a  mile  from  Hurdwar,  at  the  point  where  the 
canal  leaves  the  Ganges.  The  bungalow — a  thatched  cottage, 
pleasantly   enrboweied    in    trees-— was  comfortably  furnished 


flRBT    VIEW    OF     THE    GANGES. 


nt 


though  uuteDanted.  I  took  possession  for  the  time;  the 
servant  set  about  making  tea  for  me,  and  sent  word  for  the 
Dew  bearers  to  be  ready  in  two  hours. 

Meanwhile  I  strolled  out  to  see  the  head  of  the  canal  Id 
ten  minutes  I  stood  on  the  lofty  banks  of  the  Ganges,  looking 
down  on  his  clear  blue  stream.  The  gorge  lay  open  before 
me ;  the  hills  rose  on  either  hand  covered  with  a  wilderness 
of  jungle ;  the  white  pinnacles  of  the  temples  of  Hurdwai 
shone  over  the  top  of  a  belt  of  trees ;  the  sacred  ghauts  led 
down  to  the  water ;  but  beyond  all,  crowning  the  huge  blue 
bulk  of  the  Sub-Himalayas,  towered  the  snowy  cone  of  Gun- 
gootree.  It  was  an  impressive  scene.  Here  was  the  rivei 
beneath  my  feet ;  there  one  of  his  most  sacred  cities ;  and  in 
the  remote  distance  the  snows  wherein  he  is  cradled.  I  went 
down  the  bank,  and  there,  at  the  last  gate  of  the  Himalayas, 
where  they  let  him  out  upon  the  plain  of  Hindostan,  drank 
of  the  Holy  River. 

The  dam  across  the  Ganges  at  the  head  of  the  Canal  was 
of  course  postponed  until  the  remainder  of  the  work  should 
be  finished,  but  the  abutments  and  a  regulating  bridge  of  red 
sandstone  were  already  completed.  The  canal  was  expected 
to  take  away  nine  tenths  of  the  river  at  this  place — a  pros- 
pect which  spread  terror  among  the  Brahmins.  They  de- 
clared that  the  goddess  Gangajee  had  announced  to  them  in 
%  vision,  that  she  would  never  lie  quietly  in  any  other  than 
ner  accustomed  bed.  If  the  English  turned  her  out  of  it 
she  mif^bt  be  forced  to  go  a  few  miles,  but  she  would  assur 
edly  break  loose  and  return.  The  Brahmins,  therefore,  pre- 
dicted the  total  failure  of  the  Canal.  The  removal  of  sc 
much  water  will  be  a  disadvantage  to  those  who  inhabit  the 


f76  IXDI.A,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

banks,  but  Col.  Cautley  supposes  that  the  loss  will  be  sup 
plied  by  springs  in  the  river-bed. 

"While  I  was  preparing  to  leave,  a  garree  drove  up,  oul 
of  which  descended  a  ruddy,  powerful  man,  a  lady  and  twi 
fat  and  rosy  children.  The  gentleman,  who  had  charge  ol 
the  operations  at  Mapyore,  immediately  addressed  me  in  the 
most  cordial  manner.  He  had  just  brought  his  family  down 
from  Landowr  in  the  Himalayas,  to  spend  a  few  days,  and 
I  learned  from  him  that  the  snows  were  fast  melting.  He 
had  been  five  years  in  America,  and  professed  himself  de- 
lighted to  meet  a  citizen  of  that  country.  I  would  willingly 
have  prolonged  my  stay,  but  the  bearers  were  waiting,  so  we 
shook  hands  and  I  was  carried  on  to  Hurdwar. 

This  is  one  of  the  most  curious  cities  in  India.  It  lies  on 
the  western  bank  of  the  G-anges,  exactly  in  the  gorge  formed 
by  the  Siwalik  Hills.  There  is  but  one  principal  street 
running  parallel  to  the  water,  and  crossed  by  others  so  steep 
as  to  resemble  staircases.  Broad  stone  ghauts  descend  tc 
the  river,  to  allow  the  pilgrims  facility  of  bathing.  Between 
them,  upon  platforms  of  masonry  of  various  heights,  are 
temples  to  the  Hindoo  gods,  principally  to  Ganeish  and 
Shiva.  The  emblem  of  the  latter  divinity,  the  lingam,  oi 
jymbol  of  the  Phallic  worship,  is  seen  on  all  sides.  Its  sig- 
nification, however,  would  never  be  guessed  by  a  stranger, 
nor  is  there  any  thing  indecent  in  the  ceremonies  with  which 
it  is  worshipped.  The  temples  are  from  twenty  to  fifty  feet 
high — none,  I  think,  of  greater  altitude — and  generally  buih 
of  gray  sandstone.  There  is  great  similarity  in  their  design, 
which  is  a  massive  square  shrine,  surmounted  by  a  four-sided 
or  circular  spire,  curving  gradually  to  a  point,  so  that  thr 


THE    HOLY    CITY    OF    HURDWAfl.  177 

outline  of  each  side  resembles  a  parabola.  All  parts  of  the 
building  are  covered  with  grotesque  but  elaborate  ornaments 
and  many  of  the  spires  are  composed  of  a  mass  of  smalle? 
ones^  overlapping  each  other  like  scales,  so  that  at  a  distarco 
the  J  resemble  slender  pine-apples,  of  colossal  size.  Thcro 
are  fifty  or  sixty  temples  in  and  about  the  city,  some  of  then, 
being  perched  on  the  summit  of  cliffs  rising  above  it.  Mos< 
of  them  are  whitewashed,  and  have  a  new  and  glaring  ap 
pearance ;  but  there  are  others,  enclosed  in  large  courtyards 
which  are  very  black  and  venerable,  and  seem  to  be  regarded 
with  more  than  usual  reverence.  I  could  see  lamps  burning 
before  the  idols,  in  the  gloomy  interiors,  but  was  not  allowed 
to  enter.  There  is  a  great  annual  melaj  or  fair,  held  at 
Hurdwar,  which  is  sometimes  attended  by  a  million  and  a 
half  of  persons.  I  believe  there  are  never  less  than  five  or 
six  hundred  thousand  present.  The  natives  flock  from  all 
parts  of  Hindostan  and  B^engal,  from  the  Deccan,  the  Punjab, 
from  Cashmere,  Affghanistan,  Tartary  and  Thibet,  some  as  re- 
ligious devotees,  some  as  worldly  tradesmen.  For  miles  around 
the  place  it  is  one  immense  encampment,  and  all  the  races, 
faces,  costumes,  customs  and  languages  of  the  East,  from  Persia 
to  Siam,  from  Ceylon  to  Siberia,  are  represented.  Buying  and 
selling,  praying  and  bathing,  commercial  fleecing  and  holy 
hair-cutting,  and  all  kinds  of  religious  and  secular  swindling, 
are  in  full  operation ;  and  Hurdwar,  which  is  at  other  timea 
a  very  quiet,  lonely,  half-deserted,  out-of-the-way  nook,  is  then 
a  metropolis,  rivalling  London  in  its  tumult.  Some  of  the 
missionaries  usually  attend  on  such  occasions,  in  the  hope  of 
matching  brands  fronr  the  burning,  but  the  fires  are  generally 


S* 


178  INPIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

BO  hot  that  thoy  do  little  more  than  scorch  their  fingers  fo* 
their  pains. 

As  I  passed  slowly  through  the  streets,  I  was  much  enter 
tained  by  the  picturesque  and  filthy  appearance  of  the  town 
[ts  holiness  was  apparent  at  a  glance.  It  reminded  me  of 
one  of  those  naked  fakmrs  covered  with  dirt  and  ashes,  who 
by  gazing  steadfastly  upon  their  navels,  attain  the  beatitude 
of  saints.  The  streets  were  narrow,  very  dirty  and  enclosed 
by  high  black  houses.  Blacker  and  more  dirty  were  the 
temples.  On  the  low,  thatched  verandahs  in  front  of  the 
shops,  sat  groups  of  sacred  monkeys,  with  painted  posteriors, 
like  those  of  Jowalapore.  They  were  silent  and  contempla- 
tive, but  the  sacred  bulls,  who  blocked  up  the  streets  below 
them,  exhibited  a  cool  impudence,  which  nothing  but  a  human 
being  could  surpass.  The  inhabitants  were  all  engaged  in 
plaiting  bamboo  splits  into  baskets.  I  could  not  imagine 
what  all  this  basket-making  was  intended  for,  until  I  refiected 
that  the  time  of  the  Fair  was  approaching,  and  that  the 
Brahmins  would  need  them  as  depositories  for  their  spoils. 
Another  part  of  the  Bazaar  was  entirely  filled  with  a  display 
of  beads ;  a  still  larger  department  was  devoted  to  the  sale 
of  idols,  hundreds  of  whom  squatted  cross-legged  on  both 
sides,  staring  at  me  with  marvellously  good-humored  faces. 
G-aneish  looked  so  comical  with  his  elephant's  ears  and  trunh 
that  I  felt  tempted  to  give  the  latter  member  a  tweak.  But 
in  the  remaining  portion  of  the  bazaar  was  stowed  nothiiio 
but  assafoetida,  which  is  brouglit  over  from  Thibet.  It  musi 
have  been  of  good  quality  for  the  fragrance  was  overpower- 
mg      My  bearers  hurried   through    crying  out,  as  they  had 


TRAVEL  IN  THE  JUMGLB  179 

ione  since  enter  mg  the  town :  **'  Make  way  for  the  Maha- 
rajah ! " 

Passing  around  the  hill,  the  road  began  to  descend,  and 
a  superb  view  of  the  Dehra  Dhoon — a  large  valley  enclosed 
between  the  Siwalik  Hills  and  the  Sub-Himalayas — presented 
itself  to  my  view.  Before  me  lay  the  Ganges,  its  watera 
glittering  in  the  sun,  as  it  spread  them  out  in  the  valley,  after 
forcing  a  pass  through  a  deep,  dark  gap  in  the  mountains 
before  me.  These  mountains,  the  Sub-Himalayas,  stretched 
far  to  the  west,  point  lessening  and  fading  beyond  point,  till 
the  magnificent  perspective  of  the  Dhoon  was  closed  by  the 
distant  Chore,  the  twin  brother  of  Mont  Blanc.  Snow 
Bparkled  on  all  the  summits,  though  the  main  range  was  quite 
out  of  view.  On  my  left  the  rich,  woody  undulations  of  the 
Siwalik  Hills  swept  into  the  distance,  and  the  great  valley 
below,  as  far  as  my  eye  could  reach,  appeared  to  be  a  bound- 
less forest  I  was  now  fairly  within  the  Himalayas,  and  this 
view  gave  a  splendid  promise  of  the  scenery  which  the}' 
infold. 

The  jungle  grew  more  dense  as  we  advanced,  and  ihe 
signs  of  habitation  less  and  less  frequent.  The  forests  were 
-tie  finest  I  had  seen  in  India,  composed  principally  of  saul 
trees,  with  clusters  of  bamboo  in  the  hollows.  In  some  places 
they  were  so  laced  together  with  vines,  which  had  in  turn 
become  trees,  that  their  recesses  were  almost  impenetrable. 
Hundreds  of  bright-green  parrots  chattered  on  the  boughs^ 
and  flowers  of  brilliant  colors  gleamed  in  the  foliage.  My 
bearers  trotted  rapidly  through  these  beautiful  solitudes,  for 
tigers  are  plentiful,  and  the  carcass  of  a  cow,  covered  with 
mltures,  which  lay  near  the  road,  hinted  of  them.      There 


180  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

were  at  least  fifty  huge  birds,  shrieking  and  fighting  for  the 
morsels  which  remained,  and  some  of  them,  who  were  already 
gorged,  could  with  great  difficulty  get  out  of  the  way  of  my 
men.  Toward  evening,  I  was  startled  by  a  roaring  sound, 
resembling  a  high  wind  advancing  through  the  forest.  But 
30on  dense  volumes  of  white  smoke  became  visible,  and  oc- 
casionally streamers  of  flame  shot  above  the  tree-tops.  A 
turn  in  the  road  discovered  an  open  tract  at  the  foot  of  the 
hills,  covered  with  tall  jungle-grass,  which  the  natives  had 
set  on  fire.  The  grass  was  very  thick,  and  from  eight  to  ten 
feet  high,  so  that  the  conflagration  was  on  a  grand  scale. 
The  flames,  of  a  brilliant  scarlet  color,  pressed  along  the 
slope  with  the  fury  of  a  charging  battalion,  and  their  deep 
roar,  with  the  incessant  snapping  and  crackling  of  the  grass, 
made  a  noise  truly  awful.  I  was  strongly  reminded  of  my 
unlucky  attempt  at  burning  out  lions,  on  the  White  Nile,  a 
year  previous.  The  fire  had  just  leaped  over  the  road,  and 
my  bearers  passed  in  safety. 

We  were  obliged  to  cross  several  spurs  of  the  Siwalik 
range.  The  same  forest  still  spread  its  thick  fold  over  them, 
and  the  turnings  of  the  road  as  it  rrse  or  descended,  gave  it 
the  appearance  of  a  labvrinth.  Sunset  came  on  as  we  were 
traversing  the  crest  of  a  long  ridge,  whence  there  was  a  fine 
view  over  the  leafy  wilderness  below  me,  and  while  I  was 
Dome  along  by  the  silent  bearers,  looking  down  on  the  dark 
ening  valley  or  watching  the  last  flush  fading  from  the 
Himalayan  snows,  I  felt  that  there  might  be  times  whet 
palanquin  travelling  was  agreeable.  I  was  a  little  startled, 
on  being  carried  into  a  gloomy  glen,  to  see  a  dozen  meu 
ourst  out  of  the  thickets,   but  it  appeared  that  they  wert 


ARRIVAL    AT    DEHRA. 


181 


travelers,    who    had   taken    a   nearer    path,    known   only  to 
themselves. 

When  it  grew  dark,  the  mussalchee  lit  his  tcrch  and 
walked  beside  the  palanquin,  waving  the  light  to  and  fro, 
that  the  bearers  might  see  where  to  put  their  feet.  The  red 
glow  illuminated,  with  splendid  effect,  the  masses  of  foliage 
on  either  hand,  and  I  lay  watchinor  it  for  hour  after  hour. 
till  I  fell  from  reverie  inco  sleep.  I  was  awakened  once 
when  the  bearers  were  changed,  and  a  second  time,  when, 
two  hours  after  midnight  they  set  me  down  at  the  hotel  it 
Dehra- 


OHAPTER    XIV. 

THE     H  IMAL  AY  A  S. 

KE»oeptlon  bj  Mr.  Keene — We  start  for  the  Himalaya*— The  Dehra-Dhoon— Momni 
View  of  the  Sub-Himalayas— Leopards— Kajpore — Wilson,  the  "Eanger  of  th« 
Himalayas" — Climbing  the  Mountain — Change  of  Seasons — The  Summit  of  the 
Ridge— Village  of  Landowr— Snow-Drifts— The  Pole  and  the  Equator— Eev.  Mr. 
Woodside — Mast-Head  of  the  Sub-Himalayas — View  of  the  Snowy  Peaks — Grand 
Asiatic  Tradition — Peculiar  Structure  of  the  Himalayan  Eanges — Scenery  of  the 
Main  Chain— The  Pabarrees— Polyandry— The  Peaks  at  Sunset— The  Plain  of 
Hindostan — A  Cloudy  Deluga 

On  visiting  Mr.  Keene,  the  Deputy  Magistrate  of  Dehra, 
the  morning  after  my  arrival,  I  was  at  once  installed  as  an 
inmate  of  his  house  during  my  stay,  and  invited  to  accom- 
pany him  to  Mussooree  and  Landowr,  on  the  following  day. 
The  invitation  chimed  so  thoroughly  with  my  own  plans,  that 
I  accepted  it,  together  with  his  hospitality.  Mr.  Keene  is 
one  of  the  few  persons  in  the  East  India  Company's  Service, 
who  have  devoted  their  leisure  to  literary  pursuits.  He  is 
une  of  the  main  props  of  Saunders^  Magazine^  a  very  cre- 
ditable monthly  periodical,  published  at  Delhi ;  and  I  do  not 
betray  a  secret,  when  I  state  that  he  is  also  the  author  of 
the  frequent  poems  signed  "  H.  G.  K.,"  which  appear  in 
Blackwood. 


THE    DEHRA    DHOON.  183 

We  rose  early  the  next  morning,  and  after  a  cup  of  tea, 
Bet  off  in  Mr.  K.'s  buggy  for  Raj  pore,  at  the  foot  of  the 
mountains.  The  town  of  Dehra  is  situated  near  the  oeutre 
of  the  Dhoon,  or  Valley,  of  the  same  name,  which  is  a  tract 
about  seventy  miles  in  length  by  fifteen  in  breadth,  between 
the  Siwalik  Hills  and  the  Sub-Himalayas,  and  extending 
from  the  Granges  to  the  Jumna.  Protected  alike  from  the 
hot  winds  of  the  plains,  and  the  cold  blasts  of  the  hills,  it 
is  one  of  the  most  fertile  regions  in  India,  and  one  of  the 
most  beautiful  which  I  saw.  From  Dehra,  the  whole  extent 
of  the  magnificent  valley  is  visible.  The  curves  of  the 
Himalayan  range  fill  up  its  vistas,  on  either  hand,  with 
views  of  the  loftier  summits,  and  thus  it  appears  completely 
shut  out  from  the  world.  The  vegetation  is  much  more 
luxuriant  than  upon  the  plains,  and  owing  to  its  sheltered 
position,  most  kinds  of  tropical  fruits  thrive  well,  although 
it  lies  between  30°  and  31°  N. 

The  morning  was  mild  and  cloudless,  the  road  excellent, 
and  we  rattled  along  merrily  between  clumps  of  bamboo 
and  groves  of  mango-trees,  occasionally  looking  up  to  the 
snows  that  sparkled  six  thousand  feet  above  us.  The  houses 
on  the  very  summit  of  the  mountain  were  distinctly  visible 
The  vast  sides  and  shoulders  of  the  range  were  scantily 
clothed  with  jungle,  through  which  showed  the  dark-red 
hue  of  the  soil,  softened  to  a  lurid  purple  by  distance.  To 
ward  their  bases  the  jungle  was  dense  and  green,  except 
where  the  soil  had  been  cleared  and  formed  into  terraces  for 
cultivation.  The  surface  of  the  valley  presented  a  charming 
alternation  of  grain-fields,  groups  of  immense  mango  trees, 
and  patches  of  woodland,  resembling,  in   its  ge^jeral  aspecl 


184  INDIA      CHINA,    AND    ZAP  AN. 

the  Midland  Countieb  of  England.  Mr.  Keene  pointed  ou< 
a  hill  to  the  eastward,  as  the  scene  of  a  bloody  battle  during 
the  war  with  the  Goorkhas,  or  hill-tribes,  and  the  spot  where 
Gen.  Gillespie  fell  The  fortress,  which  formerly  crowned 
the  hill,  has  been  entirely  demolished.  The  jungles  in  the 
valley  abound  with  wild  beasts.  Only  two  weeks  before,  a 
lady  who  was  taking  an  afternoon  ride  to  Raj  pore,  saw  two 
full-grown  leopards  lying  in  a  field,  not  more  than  fifty  yards 
from  the  road.  The  beasts  gazed  at  her  very  complacently, 
as  well-bred  leopards  might,  but  attempted  no  familiarities. 
In  an  hour  we  reached  Rajpore,  which  sits  upon  the  lowest 
step,  or  foundation  stone  of  the  mountain.  On  some  fine  wood- 
ed knolls  to  the  west  of  it  there  are  several  handsome  bunga- 
lows, the  summer  residences  of  invalided  or  furloughed  officers. 
There  is  also  a  little  hotel,  whither  we  drove,  in  order  to  hire 
ponies  for  the  climb  of  seven  miles  to  Landowr.  A  tall,  heavy- 
featured  weather-beaten  gentleman  of  forty-five  or  fifty,  was 
standing  in  the  verandah.  He  had  a  red  Scotch  complexion, 
gray  eyes,  and  yellow  hair  on  the  sides  of  his  head,  the  crown 
being  bald.  There  was  something  indolent  and  phelgmatic  in 
his  air,  and  I  was  greatly  surprised  when  Mr.  Keene  pointed 
him  out  to  me  as  Wilson,  the  noted  "  Ranger  of  the  Himalayas," 
as  he  is  generally  called.  We  entered  into  conversation  with 
him  at  once.  He  had  come  down  from  Landowr  that  morning 
on  his  way  to  Dehra,  but  would  be  back  in  the  hills  in  a  few 
days.  He  has  lived  almost  exclusively  among  the  upper 
ranges  of  the  Himalayas  for  more  than  ten  years,  and  know 
every  pass  (so  he  informed  me),  as  far  as  Cashmere.  His 
wanderings  have  extended  as  far  as  Ladak,  or  Leh,  in  Thibet, 
the  capital  of  a  state  which  is  at  present  tributary  to  Goolah 


CLIMBING    THE    MOUNTAIN,  I8n 

Siiigb,  the  Rajah  of  Cashmere.  He  said  there  was  no  difficulty 
in  reaching  either  Cashmere  or  Ladak,  and  if  I  had  had  two 
months  more — but  one  cannot  see  every  thing.  Wilson  has 
much  influence  over  the  pahirreesy  or  mountaineers,  and  his 
8ervic3s  are  in  great  request  during  the  summer,  when  sport- 
ing tours  are  made  in  the  upper  Himalayas.  In  addition  to 
fhe  ibex,  bear,  and  mountain  sheep,  there  are  abundance  of 
superb  golden  pheasants  and  other  magnificent  specimens  of 
fhe  feathered  race,  the  skins  of  which  he  preserves,  and  which, 
^hen  sent  to  Calcutta  for  sale,  produce  him  a  handsome 
return. 

I  hired  a  pony  for  two  rupees,  and  we  immediately  set  out 
for  Landowr.  Mr.  Keene,  being  the  Deputy  Magistrate  of  the 
Dhoon,  was  escorted  through  the  town  by  the  local  police,  who 
took  their  departure  with  profound  salaams.  The  road,  which 
was  merely  a  narrow  path  for  horses,  notched  along  the  abrupt 
side  of  a  spur  of  the  mountain,  commanded  a  striking  view  of 
a  deep  gorge  on  the  right  hand,  the  sides  of  which  were  ter 
raced  and  covered  with  a  luxuriant  crop  of  wheat.  As  we 
ascended  further,  the  Dhoon  extended  below  us,  checkered 
with  forests  and  fields,  while  the  white  fronts  of  houses  dotted 
its  verdurous  map.  I  was  reminded  of  the  view  from  Catskill 
Mountain-House,  but  missed  the  clearness  and  brilliancy  of  our 
American  atmosphere.  Here  there  was  a  film  of  blue  vapor  on 
the  landscape,  like  a  crape  over  my  eyes,  through  which  the  more 
distant  objects  glimmered  in  indistinct  and  uncertain  forms. 
The  further  we  climbed,  the  dimmer  became  the  scene,  uati] 
there  remained  but  a  vapory  chaos — the  mere  ghost  of  a  world 
below  us,  out  of  which  rose  the  summits  of  the  Siwalik  Hillf 
4S  if  uphea^-ed  by  the  subsidence  of  the  agitated  elements. 


186  INDIA,    CHINA,     iND    JAPAN. 

The  road  was  excessively  steep,  and  only  wide  enough  U 
admit  of  two  horsemen  passing  each  other.  In  many  placei 
it  overhung  descents  which  were  so  nearly  precipitous  that  a 
stone  flung  out  would  strike  the  earth  many  hundreds  of  feet 
below.  The  jungle  became  more  scanty,  and  the  wild  flowers 
ceased.  Patches  of  snow  appeared  on  the  heights  on  either 
side,  and  gushes  of  a  cold  wind,  sweeping  through  gaps  in  the 
range,  now  and  then  blew  in  our  faces.  At  length  we  reached 
the  top  of  a  ridge,  an  outlying  spur  from  the  summit  upon 
which  Landowr  is  perched.  The  road  became  more  level,  and 
when  skirting  the  tremendous  gulf  separating  the  branches  of 
the  range,  was  protected  by  a  balustrade.  A  gateway  cut  in 
the  rock  admitted  us  to  the  north  side  of  the  ridge  we  had  as- 
cended, and  the  passage  through  it  introduced  us  to  a  scenery 
of  such  a  different  character,  that  it  mght  well  be  called  the 
Gate  of  the  Seasons.  Behind  us  the  sun'  shone  warm,  the  grass 
was  green  and  a  few  blossoms  still  kept  their  places  on  the 
trees ;  but  around  and  before  us  were  beds  of  snow,  bare, 
brown  patches  of  sward,  and  leafless  boughs.  Only  the  oak 
— an  evergreen  variety,  with  a  leaf  resembling  the  beech — and 
the  rhododendron,  retained  their  foliage.  The  height  before  us 
was  sprinkled  with  one-story  bungalows,  which  clung  to  such 
narrow  ledges  of  the  mountain  over  such  abrupt  and  frightful 
gulfs,  that  they  seemed  to  have  been  dropped  and  lodged 
there.  The  precipitous  village  and  the  houses  scattered  along 
the  irregular  summit  is  called  Landowr.  The  place  has  an 
extent  of  a  mile  and  a  half,  and  half  the  inhabitants,  at  least 
during  the  summer,  are  English.  On  one  of  the  highest 
points,  is  a  large  military  hospital.     About  two  miles  to  the 


THE  POLE  AND  THE  EQUATOR.  187 

West  of  Landowr  is  Mussooree,  which  is  scattered  in  likf 
manner,  over  a  ridge  nearly  a  thousand  feet  lower. 

The  street  of  the  native  village  through  which  we  passec 
was  covered  with  snow  to  the  depth  of  three  feet,  and  owing 
ko  the  constant  thaw  which  was  going  on,  our  horses  had 
some  difficulty  in  getting  through.  The  roofs  were  in  many 
places  broken  by  the  weight  of  snow  which  had  fallen  upon 
them.  However  we  reached  Mr.  Keene's  bungalow  without 
accident,  where  his  tenant,  Lieut.  B.,  anticipated  our  wishes 
by  ordering  tiffin  to  be  got  ready.  I  had  now  reached  the 
summit  of  the  second  range  of  the  Himalayas,  8,000  feet 
above  the  sea.  The  cottage  where  we  were  quartered 
was  perched  on  a  narrow  shelf,  scooped  out  of  the  side 
of  the  mountain.  From  the  balcony  where  I  sat,  I  could 
have  thrown  a  stone  upon  the  lowest  house  in  the  place. 
For  the  first  time  in  several  weeks,  the  thermometer  was 
above  freezing-point,  and  the  snows  with  which  the  roof 
was  laden  poured  in  a  shower  from  the  eaves.  Around  me 
the  heights  were  bleak  and  white  and  wintry,  but  down  the 
gorge  below  me — far  down  in  its  warm  bed — I  could  see 
the  evergreen  vegetation  of  the  Tropics.  Buried  to  the 
knees  in  a  snow-drift,  I  looked  upon  a  palm-tree,  and  could 
almost  smell  the  blossoms  of  the  orange-bowers  in  a  valley 
where  frost  never  fell.  It  was  like  sitting  at  the  North 
Pole,  and  looking  down  on  the  Equator. 

I  had  a  letter  to  Mr.  Woodside,  an  American  Missionary 
who  lived  upon  the  highest  point  of  Landowr,  and  Mr.  Keene 
md  1  visited  him  during  the  afternoon.  We  had  still  half 
a  mile  to  climb  before  reaching  the  summit  of  the  mountain, 
which  I  found  to  be  a  sharp,  serrated  crest,  not  more  thaf 


J  88  INDIA      CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

ten  yards  in  breadth.  Mr.  Woodside's  house  conii/ianda  « 
Fiew  of  both  sides  of  the  Sub-Himalayas;  and  a  natura 
mound  beside  it  has  been  ascertained,  by  measurement,  to 
be  the  loftiest  spot  in  this  part  of  the  range.  The  house 
and  mound  were  purchased  by  a  benevolent  Philadelphian, 
as  a  sanitarium  for  Missionaries — a  thing  much  needed  by 
that  class.  I  suggested  to  Mr.  Woodside  the  propriety  of 
planting  a  tall  flagstaff  on  the  mound,  and  running  up  the 
national  colors  on  certain  anniversaries. 

The  view  from  this  point  best  repaid  me  for  my  journey 
to  the  hills.  The  mound  on  which  we  stood  was  conical, 
and  only  twenty  feet  in  diameter  at  the  summit.  The  sides 
of  the  mountain  fell  away  so  suddenly  that  it  had  the  effect 
of  a  tower,  or  of  looking  from  the  mast-head  of  a  vessel 
In  fact,  it  might  be  called  the  "  main  truck "  of  the  Sub- 
Himalayas.  The  sharp  comb,  or  ridge,  of  which  it  is  the 
crowning  point,  has  a  direction  of  north-west  to  south-east 
(parallel  to  the  great  Himalayan  range),  dividing  the  pano- 
rama into  two  hemispheres,  of  very  different  character.  To 
the  north,  I  looked  into  the  wild  heart  of  the  Himalayas — 
a  wilderness  of  barren  peaks,  a  vast  jumble  of  red  mountains, 
divided  by  tremendous  clefts  and  ravines,  of  that  dark  indigo 
hue,  which  you  sometimes  see  on  the  edge  of  a  thunder-cloud 
—but  in  the  back-ground,  toweriDg  far,  far  above  them,  rose 
the  mighty  pinnacles  of  the  Gungootree,  the  Jumnootre,  the 
Budreenath,  and  the  Kylas,  the  heaven  of  Indra,  where  the 
Great  God,  Mahadeo,  still  sits  on  his  throne,  inaccessible  to 
mortal  foot.  I  was  fifty  miles  nearer  these  mountains  than 
at  Roorkhee,  where  I  first  beheld  them,  and  with  the  addi« 
Uonal  advantage  of  being  mounted  on  a  footstool,  equal  tc 


GRAND    AEtATIC    TRADITION  18^ 

sue  third  of  tbeir  height.  They  still  stood  immeasurably 
above  me,  so  cold,  and  clear,  and  white,  that,  without  know- 
ledge  to  the  contrary,  I  should  have  said  that  they  were  not 
more  than  twenty  miles  distant.  Yet,  as  the  crow  flies,  a 
line  of  seventy  miles  would  scarce  have  reached  their 
summits ' 

Though  not  the  highest  of  the  Himalayas,  these  summits 
form  the  great  central  group  of  the  chain,  and  contain  the 
cisterns  whence  spring  the  rivers  of  India,  Thibet  and  Bur 
njah.      The  snows  of  their  southern  slopes  feed   the  Jumna 
and  Ganges;    of  their  northern,   the  Sutledj,  the  Indus  and 
tlie  Brahmapootra.     Around  this  group  cling  the  traditions 
of  the  Hindoo   Mythology.      Thence   came  the  first  parents 
of  the  race ;  there  appeared  \h^  first  land  after  the  deluge. 
And   upon    the  lofty  table-lands  of   Central    Asia,    whereor 
those  peaks  look  down,  was  probably  the  birth-place  of  the 
great  Caucasian  family,   from   which  the   Uindoos   and  our- 
selves alike  are  descenccd.      Far  to  the  north-west,   where 
the  Altay,  the  Hindoo  Koosh  (or  Indian   Caucasus),  and  the 
Himalayas,  join  their  sublime  ranges,  there  is  a  table-land 
higher   than    Popocatapetl,   called,    in     the   picturesque   lan- 
guage  of  the   Tartars,    the  "Roof  of  the  World."      Under 
the  eaves  of  that  roof,   on  the  table-land  of  Pamir,   if  we 
may  trust  Asiatic  tradition,  dwelt  the  parents  of  our  race. 
I  fancied   myself  standing  on  the   cone  of  Gungootree,  and 
looking  down  upon  it.      The  vast  physical  features  of  this 
part  of  the  world  are  in  themselves  so  imposing,  that  we  are 
but  too  ready  to  give  them  the  advantage  of  any  myth  which 
invests  them  with  a  grand  human  interest. 

There  is  a  peculiarity  in  the  structure  of  the  Himalayab 


I90  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

of  which  1  had  not  heard,  until  I  visited  them.  At  theii 
north-western  extremity,  on  the  frontiers  of  Cashmere  and 
Afghanistan,  the  lower  or  Sub-Himalayas  are  lofty,  and  so 
separated  by  deep  valleys  from  the  higher  or  snowy  range, 
as  almost  to  form  a  parallel  chain.  As  we  proceed  east- 
ward, however,  the  relative  height  of  the  two  ranges  gra* 
dually  changes.  The  peaks  of  the  Upper  Himalayas  increase 
in  height,  while  those  of  the  Sub-Himalayas  decrease.  A 
little  to  the  east  of  the  Dhoon,  the  Siwalik  Hills  cease  en- 
tirely.  The  Sub-Himalayas  gradually  dwindle  away  toward 
Nepaul,  becoming  more  narrow  and  broken  as  they  approach 
the  termination  of  the  chain.  Dwalagheri,  in  the  main 
Himalayan  chain,  once  supposed  to  be  the  highest  moun- 
tain in  the  world,  is  in  NepauL  But  further  to  the  east,  is 
Chumalari,  which  is  still  higher,  and  recent  measurements 
have  discovered  that  another  peak,  still  further  eastward,  in 
the  former  province  of  Sikim,  is  higher  than  Chumalari. 
This  regular  increase  of  altitude  in  the  Himalayas,  as  you 
proceed  eastward,  is  very  curious.  The  height  of  Dwala- 
gheri is  estimated  at  27,000  feet;  Chumalari,  a  little  more 
than  28,000,  and  the  third  peak,  the  name  of  which  I  forget, 
fully  30,000  feet!  The  Rev.  Mr.  D'Aguilar,  whom  I  saw 
at  Roorkhee,  penetrated  to  the  glaciers  of  Jumnootree.  He 
informed  me  that  in  ascending  the  Himalayas,  the  productions 
become  not  only  of  the  temperate  zone,  but  English  in  their 
character ;  the  flowers,  fruit  and  shrubs  being  almost  identical 
with  those  of  England.  In  the  valleys,  however,  is  found  the 
deodar,  or  Himalayan  cypress,  which  grows  to  a  height  of 
more  than  200  feet.  There  is  a  temple  near  the  source  of 
the  Ganges,  but  owing  to   the  danger  and  difficulty  of  th« 


THE    PAHARREEB POLyAl!n)RY.  191 

journey,  comparatively  few  pilgrims  reach  it.  Tie  air  of 
the  mountain  is  pure,  fresh  and  invigorating,  and  the  pahar 
rees  are  said  to  be  both  physically  and  mentally  superior  tc 
the  inhabitants  of  the  plains.  Mr.  D'Aguilar  considered 
them  as  a  strikingly  honest  and  faithful  race.  Owing  tc 
the  difficulty  of  procuring  subsistence,  and  the  necessity  of 
restricting  the  increase  of  population,  Polyandry  has  existed 
among  them  from  time  immemorial.  The  woman  and  her 
husbands  live  together  harmoniously,  and  the  latter  contri- 
bute each  an  equal  share  to  the  support  of  the  children. 
Among  these  people  the  saying  will  particularly  apply  :  "  It's 
a  wise  child  that  knows  its  own  father."  Another  of  their 
customs  is  still  more  singular.  Their  ideas  of  hospitality 
compel  them  to  share  not  only  their  food,  but  their  connubial 
right  with  the  stranger,  and  no  insult  is  so  great  as  a  refusal 
to  accept  it.  While  in  Landowr,  I  saw  several,  of  them 
walking  bare-legged  through  the  snow,  which  troubled  them 
as  little  as  it  would  a  horse.  They  were  handsome,  muscular 
fellows,  with  black  eyes,  ivory  teeth  and  a  ruddy  copper 
complexion. 

I  spent  the  afternoon  with  Mr.  Woodside,  and  at  sunset 
went  again  upon  the  mound,  to  witness  the  illumination  of 
the  Himalayas.  Although  there  were  clouds  in  the  sky,  the 
range  was  entirely  unobscured,  and  the  roseate  glare  of  its 
enormous  fields  of  snow,  shooting  into  flame-shaped  pinnacles, 
seemed  lighted  up  by  the  conflagration  of  a  world.  It  wag 
a  spectacle  of  surpassing  glory,  but  so  brief,  that  I  soon  los 
the  sense  of  its  reality. 

I   was   called,   however,   to   witness   another    remarkable 
pnenomenon.     Turning  from  the  fadinp;  hilbi,  I  looked  to  the 


192  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

south.  The  Behia  Dhoon  was  buried  under  a  sea  of  snow 
white  clouds,  which  rolled  and  surged  against  each  other 
sinking  and  rising,  like  the  billows  of  an  agitated  sea.  Where 
wo  stood,  the  air  was  pure  and  serene  ;  but  far  away,  ovei 
that  cloudy  deluge — which  soon  tossed  its  waves  above  the 
peaks  of  the  Siwalik  Hills — more  than  a  hundred  miles  away 
—and  high  in  air,  apparently,  ran  a  faint  blue  horizon-line, 
like  that  of  the  sea.  It  was  the  great  plain  of  Hindostan, 
but  so  distant  that  the  delusion  was  perfect.  The  great  white 
billows  rose,  and  rose,  whirling  and  tossing  as  they  poured 
into  the  clefts  of  the  hills,  till  presently  we  stood  as  on  a  little 
island  in  the  midst  of  a  raging  sea.  Still  they  rose,  disclosing 
enormous  hollows  between  their  piled  masses;  cliffs,  as  of 
wool,  toppled  over  the  cavities;  avalanches  slid  from  the 
summits  of  the  ridges  and  slowly  fell  into  the  depths;  and 
as  I  looked  away  for  many  a  league  over  the  cloudy  world, 
there  was  motion  every  where,  but  not  a  sound.  The  silence 
was  awful,  and  as  the  vast  mass  arose,  I  felt  an  involuntary 
alarm,  lest  we  should  be  overwhelmed.  But  to  our  very  feet 
the  deluge  came,  and  there  rested.  Its  spray  broke  against 
the  little  pinnacle  whereon  we  stood,  but  the  billows  kept 
their  place.  It  was  as  if  a  voice  had  said:  "Thus  far  shall 
thou  ?ome,  and  no  further :  and  here  shall  thy  proud  waves 
Se  stayed." 


CHAPTER  Xy 

SCENES   IN   THE   DEHRA   JHOON 

Rfturu  to  Dc^^a— The  Dboon— System  of  Taxation— Tlie  Tea-Oulture  in  InJia--Teft- 
Garden  at  Kaolo^r— Progress  by  Force— Rifle  to  the  Robber's  Cave— A  Sikh  Tem- 
ple—A Sunny  Picture— Sikh  Minstrelsy— Rajah  Loll  Singh— English  Masters  anc 
Native  Servants— Preparations  for  Departure. 

We  returned  from  Landowr  on  Wednesday  afternoon,  the  2d 
of  February.  Lieut.  B.  urged  us  to  remain  another  day,  but 
the  Himalayas  (which  I  had  gone  up  the  mountain  at  sun 
rise  to  see)  were  half  covered  with  clouds,  the  snow  was 
melting  on  all  sides,  and  the  paths  were  almost  impassable 
from  mud  and  slush.  There  was  said  to  be  a  specimen  of 
the  y  (k^  or  Tartar  cow,  at  Mussooree,  which  I  should  have 
seen,  but  for  three  miles  of  sloppy  road.  As  it  was,  I  was 
glad  to  escape  from  the  dreary  though  sublime  heights  of 
Landowr,  and  return  to  Dehra,  with  its  groves  and  sunny 
gardens.  The  air  was  still  more  hazy  than  on  the  preceding 
day,  but  as  we  descended,  the  phantom  valley  flushed  into  form 
ind  color,  and  in  an  hour  and  a  half  from  the  time  my  pony 
tumbled  down  in  a  snow-drift,  I  reined  him  up  under  a  palm  tree. 
Dehra,  as  I  have  already  stated,  is  one  of  the  loveliest 
spots  in  India.  Judging  from  the  number  of  handsome 
9 


194  INDIA,   CmhJif   AND   JAPAH. 

bungalows  in  and  around  the  town,  tlie  Anglo-Indians  are 
of  a  similar  opinion.  As  much  of  the  valley  is  entirelj 
given  up  to  jungle,  parts  of  it,  which  are  marshy  and  un- 
drained,  are  considered  unhealthy,  but  a  little  attention  would 
make  it  one  of  the  healthiest,  as  it  is  one  of  the  most  fertile, 
districts  in  Northern  India.  A  small  irrigating  canal  hag 
been  carried  through  the  central  part,  but  it  does  not  even 
pay  the  expenses,  so  feeble  and  defective  is  the  agriculture  of 
the  Dhoon.  There  are  reckoned,  within  its  limits,  a  hun^ 
dred  villages,  but  the  population  must  be  very  scanty,  since 
the  revenue  obtained  by  Grovernment  only  amounts  to  22,000 
rupees.  When  I  state  that  the  tax  imposed  upon  the  ze7n- 
indars^  who  hold  the  land  as  Government  tenants,  amounts 
to  75  per  cent,  of  the  estimated  value  of  the  products,  it  will 
be  seen  how  trifling  the  actual  yield  must  be.  The  ryots,  or 
peasants,  to  whom  the  land  is  sub-let  by  the  zemindars,  are 
only  able  to  eke  out  a  bare  subsistence,  so  that  here,  where 
thousands  of  acres  of  the  best  land  are  lying  waste,  the 
greater  part  of  the  inhabitants  are  in  a  state  of  extreme 
poverty.  This  system,  by  which  the  East  India  Company 
is  the  virtual  proprietor  of  all  the  territory  under  its  exclu- 
sive control,  must  necessarily  be  a  check  to  the  prosperity  of 
India  and  the  civilization  of  its  people;  but  when  I  expressed 
such  an  opinion  to  the  English  residents,  I  was  generally  met 
by  the  remark  (the  same  often  used  by  Americans,  apolo- 
getic of  Slavery) :  "  "We  did  not  make  it — we  found  it  so." 

The  introduction  of  the  Tea  Culture  into  India  is  aii 
mteresting  experiment — if,  indeed,  it  can  still  be  considered 
an  experiment.  The  Government,  within  the  past  ten  years, 
has  devoted  much  attention  to  it.     All  the  principal  varieties 


TEA    CULTURE    IN    INDIA.  195 

oi  the  tea-plant  have  been  imported,  experimental  gardeni 
laid  out,  at  different  points  in  the  Himalayas,  from  Assam  to 
the  north-western  frontier  of  the  Punjaub,  and  Chinese  work^ 
men  procured  to  teach  the  preparation  of  the  leaves.  Mr. 
Fortdne,  whose  travels  in  China,  on  his  mission  to  effect  these 
objects,  have  excited  considerable  notice,  had  been  dispatched 
a  third  time  to  that  country,  to  procure  fresh  supplies  of 
plants  and  workmen.  The  Tea  Plant  was  first  introduced 
into  A«<sam,  a  district  north  of  Bengal  and  lying  on  the 
Brahmapootra  River.  A  company  was  formed  about  fifteen 
years  ago,  for  the  cultivation  and  manufacture  of  Tea ;  but 
through  ignorance  and  inexperience,  it  was  for  some  time  a 
losing  coiicern.  At  present,  however,  it  has  so  far  succeed- 
ed as  to  produce  300,000  pounds  of  Tea,  and  to  pay  10  per 
cent,  annually  to  the  Company.  The  experimental  gardens 
in  the  nort^hern  and  western  parts  of  the  Himalayas  have 
been  established  more  recently,  and  the  natives  are  now 
beginning  to  take  up  the  cultivation  of  the  plant. 

One  of  the  gardens  is  at  Kaologir,  about  three  miles  from 
Dehra,  and  I  visited  it  in  company  with  Mr.  Keene.  Mr. 
Fortune  considers  that  a  level  alluvial  soil,  like  that  of  the 
Dhoon,  is  not  so  well  adapted  for  tea  as  the  hilJy  country 
about  Almorah  and  in  the  Punjaub,  and  if  he  be  correct  I 
did  not  see  the  plant  in  its  greatest  perfection;  though  I 
ghould  think  it  difficult  for  any  plantation  to  present  a  more 
flourishing  appearance  than  parts  of  that  at  Kaologir.  It 
consists  of  three  hundred  acres  of  level  gound— a  rich,  dark 
toam,  mixed  with  clay — and  contains  plants  in  every  stage 
of  growth,  from  the  seedling  to  the  thick,  bushy  shrub,  six 
feet  high.     Tt  was  then  the  blossoming  season,  and  the   nexi 


196  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

crop  of  leaves  would  not  be  gathered  before  May.  The  plant 
bears  some  resemblance  to  the  ilex,  Dr  holly,  but  the  leaf  i^ 
smaller,  of  a  darker  green,  and  more  minutely  serrated.  The 
olossom  is  mostly  white — in  some  varieties  a  yellowish-brown 
—  and  resembles  thai  of  the  wild  American  blackberry. 
The  plants  were  set  about  three  feet  apart,  in  rows  four 
feet  from  each  other,  with  small  channels  between,  for  the 
purpose  of  irrigation.  Mr.  Fortune,  however,  considers  that 
irrigation  is  rather  injurious  than  otherwise. 

Mr.  Thomson,  the  Superintendent  of  the  plantation,  as- 
sured me  that  the  average  yield  of  the  plants,  after  they  had 
reached  a  proper  growth  for  plucking,  might  be  set  down  at 
I  cwt.  per  acre,  though,  under  favorable  circumstances,  it 
could  be  increased  to  200  lbs.  At  present,  the  Dehra  and 
Almorah  teas  sell  for  purely  fancy  prices,  being  bought  up 
with  avidity  at  the  annual  sales,  at  from  two  to  three  rupees 
a  pound.  Dr.  Jameson,  who  has  charge  of  all  the  Tea  planta 
tions  in  the  north-west,  estimates  that  when  the  culture  shall 
have  become  general,  Tea  can  be  profitably  produced  at  six 
annas  (18  cents)  the  pound.  The  zemindars,  who  are  with 
difficulty  brought  to  accept  of  the  slightest  innovatioji,  are 
very  reluctant  to  undertake  the  culture,  although  the  G  overn- 
ment  not  only  releases  them  from  all  tax  upon  land  j  lanted 
with  Tea  shrubs,  but  binds  itself  to  buy  from  them,  £  t  a  re- 
munerative price,  all  the  Tea  they  can  produce.  It  ij  now 
proposed  to  command  every  zemindar  who  leases  property 
beyond  a  certain  number  of  acres,  to  cultivate  five  acres  of 
the  Tea  plant  Those  who  know  the  natives  best  say  that 
this  is  the  only  way  in  which  Tea  Culture  can  be  rapidlj 
extended;    the   natives  being  perfectly  willing  to   obey  any 


rtlDE    TO    THE    ROBBER's    CAVE.  l^' 

wromauds,  although  they  may  be  immovable  to  all  persua 
sion.  I  have  been  told  that  when  urged  to  introduce  certair 
improvements  into  their  system  of  agriculture,  they  often 
answer  :  "  If  you  really  want  us  to  do  so,  why  don't  you  give 
IS  the  hookm  (command)  ?  "  There  would  seem  to  be  some 
eason,  then,  in  such  a  despotic  mode  of  introducing  the  Tea 
Culture.  I  drank  of  both  the  Dehia  and  Almorah  Teas, 
which  were  deliciously  pure  and  fragrant,  though  much 
stronger  than  the  adulterated  Teas  exported  from  China. 

The  garden  at  Kaologir  was  kept  in  fine  order,  the  fields 
being  perfectly  clean  and  free  from  weeds,  and  separated  from 
each  other  by  hedges  of  Persian  roses,  of  the  deepest  crimson 
dye  and  intensest  summer  perfume.  We  passed  through  the 
plantation,  and  struck  across  an  open  tract  of  country  toward 
the  tents  of  Mr.  Thornhill,  the  Magistrate  of  the  Dhoon. 
He  received  us  hospitably  under  the  shade  of  his  patriarchal 
mano-o-trees,  and  lent  us  two  horses,  to  take  us  to  the  Rob- 
ber's  Cave,  which  was  three  or  four  miles  distant,  among  the 
hills  at  the  base  of  the  Himalayas.  We  had  a  charming  ride 
through  alternate  groves,  jungles  and  grain-fields.  The  great 
mountains  before  us  lay  warm  and  red  in  the  afternoon  sun. 
and  away  to  the  west,  like  a  soft,  white  cloud,  the  Chore  lifted 
his  snowy  head.  The  peasants  were  at  work  in  the  fields, 
and  boys,  clad  only  in  the  dhotee,  or  breech-cloth,  tended  the 
cows  as  they  browsed  along  the  edges  of  the  jungle. 

Finally  the  path  brought  us  to  the  brink  of  a  deep  sunken 
glen,  the  sides  of  which  were  walls  of  magnificent  foliage.  It 
extended  before  us  for  nearly  a  mile,  narrowing  as  it  ap 
preached  the  hills,  two  of  which  overhung  and  finally  blocked 
It  up      Our  horses  scrambled  down  with  some  difficulty,  and 


l98  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

we  followed  the  course  of  a  clear  mountain  stream^  \?hioli 
issued  from  the  further  extremity.  As  the  glen  grew  nar- 
rower, its  sides  became  more  steep  and  lofty,  yet  so  tho- 
roughly draped  with  shrubs  and  pendant  vines,  that  scarcely  a 
particle  of  soil  was  visible.  The  foliage  rolled  down  in  gor 
geous  masses,  on  either  hand,  dipping  its  skirts  in  the  clear, 
bright  stream,  that  flowed  at  the  bottom.  But  the  glen  at  length 
became  a  ravine,  the  ravine  a  crevice,  and  the  hills  closed, 
leaving  only  a  split,  as  of  an  earthquake,  for  the  passage  of  the 
water.  A  cold  wind  blew  continually  from  the  opening.  We  rode 
within  it  a  short  distance  to  notice  the  splendor  of  the  leafy, 
sunlit  glen,  seen  through  the  black  jaws  of  the  gloomy  passage. 
The  rock  is  a  coarse  conglomerate  of  limestone,  whence  I  suspect 
that  the  "  Cave,"  as  it  is  called,  is  a  natural  grotto,  and  not  a 
crevice  produced  by  an  earthquake,  as  some  persons  suppose. 
By  wading  in  the  bed  of  the  stream,  you  can  pass  entirely 
through  the  hill,  a  distance  of  nearly  a  mile,  emerging  into  & 
similar  glen  on  the  opposite  side.  I  was  struck  with  the  re- 
«<emblance  of  the  place  to  the  famous  "  Annathal,"  near 
Eisenach,  in  Germany. 

One  morning  I  made  a  visit  to  a  Sikh  temple,  of  great 
sanctity,  which  stands  at  the  further  end  of  the  town.  It  is 
3onnected  with  the  tomb  of  a  Gooroo,  or  Saint,  and  is  about 
two  hundred  years  old.  It  is  enclosed  in  a  spacious  court,  and 
appears  to  have  been  built  on  the  site  of  some  older  edifice,  as 
a  portion  of  the  gateway  is  evidently  of  much  earlier  date  than 
the  tomb.  One  of  the  buildings,  now  used  as  a  habitation,  has 
a  portico  of  very  grotesque  design,  covered  with  paintings 
representing  events  in  the  Saint's  life,  and,  singularly  enough 
portraits  of  some  of  thp  Hindoo  gods.    The  religion  of  the  Sikhf 


I 


A    SIKH     TEMPLE.  199 

is  a  oompromige  between  Islam  and  Hindooism,  rejecting  all  the 
minor  divinities  of  the  latter  and  accepting,  in  their  stead,  the 
One  God  of  the  Moslems,  without  the  full  recognition  oi 
Mahomet  as  his  Prophet.  They  abjure  caste,  but,  probably  out 
of  regard  for  the  feelings  of  their  converts,  abstain  from  eating 
cow's  flesh.  Tlieir  moral  code  is  very  similar  to  that  of  the 
Hindoos  and  Moslems.  One  of  the  pictures  in  the  portico 
illustrates  a  miracle  which  happened  to  the  Sikh  Saint,  during 
a  visit  which  he  made  to  Mecca,  Being  directed  by  the 
Moslem  priests  to  sleep  with  his  feet  to  the  Kaaba,  he  refused, 
and  lay  down  with  his  head  towards  it,  but  during  the  night  it 
turned  around  in  a  marvellous  manner,  and  presented  itself  to 
his  feet ! 

A  second  gateway  admitted  us  into  a  garden,  containing  the 
tomb  of  the  Saint,  and  the  tombs  of  his  four  wives.  The  form- 
er stands  in  the  centre,  the  latter  in  the  four  corners  of  a  paved 
court,  and  are  connected  with  each  other  by  .narrow  stone  cause- 
ways. The  Saint's  tomb  is  covered  with  a  lofty  dome,  ajid 
surrounded  with  a  cloister,  richly  enamelled  and  painted,  in  the 
style  of  the  Mogul  tombs  about  Agra  and  Delhi.  It  has  no 
pretensions  to  architectural  beauty,  but  was  a  most  picturesque 
object,  with  its  white  dome,  its  deep  shadowy  arches,  and  the 
brilliancy  of  its  colors  half  touched  with  sunshine,  half  buried 
in  the  shade  of  two  massive  peepul  trees.  Over  the  corner  of 
the  platform  rose  the  stems  of  the  palm  and  Italian  cypress,  and 
beyond  the  garden-wall  appeared  the  tufted  tops  of  some  clumps 
of  bamboos.  It  was  a  picture  ready  for  the  sun-steeped  pencil 
»f  Cropsey. 

But  after  we  had  passed  around  to  the  front,  another  pic- 
ture, not  less  beautiful,  was  speedily  formed.     A  blind  Sikt 


20C 


INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 


fakeor,  who  had  pilgrimed  his  way  thither  from  the  Pun 
jaub,  lay  in  the  sun,  half-propped  against  one  of  the  pillars 
with  a  sitar,  or  Indian  violin,  in  his  hand.  "We  asked  hiu: 
to  play  for  as,  whereupon  he  slowly  tuned  the  strings,  tooi 
p  a  short  bow  and  began  playing  one  of  those  passionate 
melodies  of  love  and  languishment,  which  you  only  hear  in 
a  southern  clime.  The  body  of  the  violin  was  of  wood, 
curved  and  ribbed  so  as  to  resemble  a  crooked  gourd,  or  a 
segment  of  a  fossil  ammonite.  It  had  a  short  neck,  and  four 
strings  of  catgut,  under  which  were  eight  very  slender  wires, 
out  of  the  reach  of  the  bow,  but  tuned  so  as  to  give  out  a 
spontaneous  accord  to  the  notes  produced  upon  the  strings. 
The  tones  were  like  those  of  an  ordinary  violin,  but  \ery 
pure,  sweet  and  ringing.  I  should  think  the  instrunent 
capable,  in  the  hands  of  a  master,  of  producing  the  Liost 
exquisite  musical  effects.  In  the  Sikh'a  hands,  it  spoke  truly 
the  language  of  Southern  love,  now  passionate,  now  i»  ;plor'> 
ing,  but  falling  always  into  the  same  melting  cadences  w^hich 
were  too  beautiful  to  be  monotonous.  He  sang,  Kac  the 
Arabs,  in  a  succession  of  musical  cries.  Around  him  were 
Sikh  priests  and  a  knot  of  half-naked  boys,  some  bajking  in 
the  full  glare  of  the  sun,  some  seated  under  the  arches  of 
the  tomb.  They  were  all  necessary  parts  of  the  picture 
Would  the  music  have  had  the  same  meaning,  if  the  Sikh 
had  been  seated  under  a  pine,  on  the  Catskill  ? — No ;  that 
same  pine  is  not  more  different  from  the  palm  which  I  saw 
whWe  listening  to  the  song,  than  is  Man,  in  the  North,  froa 
Man,  in  the  South. 

On  our  return  home  wi  called  at  the  house  of  the  Rajah 
lioU  Singh,  a  Sikh   Chiei'tain.  to  whom  the    English  are  in 


RAJAH    LULL    SINGH.  20] 

debted  in  a  ^reat  Dieasure  for  the  3onquest  of  the  Punjaub 
But,  having  been  treacherous  to  his  countrymen  in  the  first 
place,  he  was  afterward  accused  of  meditating  treachery  to 
he  English,  and  had  only  recently  been  released  from  tem- 
porary imprisonment  at  Agra.  He  had  a  pension  of  1,000 
upees  a  month  from  the  Government,  with  which  he  rented  a 
handsome  bungalow,  and  was  living  in  considerable  style 
He  had  a  great  passion  for  dogs,  and  was  something  of  a 
shikari'ee,  or  sportsman.  The  guards  at  his  residence  pre- 
sented arms  as  we  rode  up,  and  we  were  soon  afterwards 
received  by  the  Rajah  himself.  Loll  Singh  means  "  Red 
Lion,"  and  the  name  well  suited  his  stout,  muscular  figure, 
heavy  beard  and  ruddy  face.  He  was  richly  dressed  in  a 
garment  of  figured  silk,  with  a  Cashmere  shawl  around  hi? 
waist,  and  a  turban  of  silk  and  gold.  Rings  of  gold  wire, 
upon  which  pearls  were  strung,  hung  from  his  ears  to  his 
shoulders.  His  eye  was  large,  dark  and  lustrous,  and  his 
smile  gave  an  agreeable  expression  to  a  face  that  would  other- 
wise have  been  stern  and  gloomy.  As  he  spoke  no  English, 
my  conversation  with  him  was  confined  to  the  usual  greet- 
ings, and  some  expressions  of  admiration  respecting  a  favorite 
spaniel,  which  he  called  "  Venus."  He  spent  the  same 
evening  at  Mr.  Keene's,  appearing  in  a  very  rich  and  elegant 
native  costume,  with  an  aigrette  of  largo  diamonds  and 
emeralds  attached  to  his  throat. 

I  was  much  amused  by  noticing  the  opinions  of  difi'erent 
English  residents,  respecting  their  native  servants.  Som 
praised  their  honesty  and  fidelity  in  high  terms ;  others  de* 
nounced  them  as  liars  and  pilferers.  Some  trusted  them 
implicitly  with  their  key.<,  while  others  kept  their  cupboard? 
0* 


202  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

and  closets  carefully  locked.  Nearly  all  seemed  to  agree 
however,  that  one  can  never  wholly  depend  on  their  truth 
fulness.  There  are  laws  prohibiting  the  master  from  beating 
"his  servants,  and  indeed  blows  are  of  no  effect.  The  punish 
ment  now  adopted,  is  to  fine  them,  which  has  been  found 
very  efficacious.  They  care  little  for  being  reproved,  if  in 
their  own  language,  but  are  greatly  annoyed  by  the  use  of 
English  terms,  which  they  do  not  understand.  Thus,  to 
address  a  man  as :  "  You  wicked  rectangle !  "  "  You  speci 
men  of  comparative  anatomy ! "  &c.,  would  be  a  much  greater 
indignity  than  the  use  of  the  vilest  epithets,  in  Hindostanee. 

After  having  enjoyed  Mr.  Keene's  hospitality  for  five 
days,  I  ordered  my  bearers  to  be  ready  on  Saturday  for  the 
return  to  Meerut.  The  day,  however,  brought  a  thunder- 
storm and  rain  in  torrents,  obliging  me  to  postpone  my 
departure  until  the  following  morning.  Eajah  Loll  Singh 
offered  me  his  elephant,  for  the  ride  through  the  Siwalik 
Hills,  and  as  my  kind  host  proposed  to  take  me  across  the 
Dhoon  in  his  buggy,  I  sent  the  palanquin  and  bearers  on  in 
advance,  tc  await  me  at  Mohun,  on  the  othor  side  of  the  pass 


CHAPTER    XVI 

JOIRNEY     TO     MEERUT     AND     CAWNPOBB. 

ftfle  to  Shahpore— The  Eajah's  Elephant— The  Pass  of  the  Siwa.ik  Hills— I  Keminu 
the  Palanquin— The  Large  Punch- House — Saharunpore — The  American  Mission— 
The  Botanic  Garden— A  Dreary  Journey— Travellers— Salutations — Return  tc 
Meerut — A  Theft— Jnurney  uver  the  Plains — Scenery  of  the  Road — The  Pollution 
of  Touch— Fractious  Horses— Ajrival  at  Cawnpore — Capt,  Riddell— The  English 
Cantonments, 

1  LEFT  Mr.  Keene's  pleasant  residence  at  Dehra  on  Sunday 
morning,  the  6th.  The  thnnder-storm  had  passed  away,  the 
sky  was  blue  and  vaporless,  the  verdure  of  the  beautiful 
valley  freshened  by  the  rain,  and  the  heights  of  the  Sub- 
Himalayas  were  capped  with  new-fallen  snow.  My  host  and  I 
took  a  hasty  breakfast,  and  then  set  off  for  Shahpore  in  his 
buggy.  The  distance  was  nine  miles,  the  road  muddy,  full 
of  deep  pools  left  by  the  rain,  and  ascending  as  we  approached 
the  hills,  so  that  we  made  but  slow  progress.  From  the 
mouth  of  the  pass  I  turned  to  take  a  last  view  of  the  lovely 
valley.  Just  within  the  opening  is  Shahpore,  a  native  ham 
let,  consisting  of  about  a  dozen  bamboo  huts.  Mr.  Keene 
was  here  met  by  one  of  the  native  police,   who  engaged  to 


204  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN 

Bend  a  cheprassee  with  mo  to  Mohun,  for  the  purpose  of 
seeing  that  my  bearers  were  ready. 

The  Rajah  had  kept  his  promise,  and  his  big  she-elephant 
had  already  arrived.  She  knelt  at  the  keeper's  command, 
and  a  small  ladder  was  placed  against  her  side,  that  I  might 
climb  upon  the  pad,  as  I  had  been  unable  to  borrow  a  howdah. 
I  had  a  package  of  bread  and  cold  roast-beef,  to  serve  me  as 
a  tiffin,  but  was  careful  to  conceal  it  from  the  driver,  other 
wise  himself  and  the  elephant,  with  all  her  trappings,  must 
have  undergone  purification  on  account  of  the  unclean  flesh, 
I  took  a  reluctant  leave  of  Mr  Keene,  seated  myself  astride 
on  the  pad,  with  the  driver  before  me,  on  the  elephant's  neck, 
and  we  moved  off.  The  driver  was  a  Sikh,  in  a  clean  white 
and  scarlet  dress,  and  a  narrow  handkerchief  bound  around 
his  head.  His  long,  well-combed  hair  was  anointed  with 
butter,  and,  as  his  head  ^as  just  under  my  nose,  I  was  con- 
tinually regaled  with  the  unctuous  odors.  He  carried  a  short 
iron  spike,  with  which  he  occasionally  punched  the  elephant's 
head,  causing  her  to  snort  and  throw  up  her  trunk,  as  she 
quickened  her  pace.  I  found  the  motion  very  like  that  of  a 
large  dromedary,  and  by  no  means  unpleasant  or  fatiguing. 
Though  walking,  she  went  at  the  rate  of  about  five  miles  an 
hour.  I  noticed  that  the  driver  frequently  spoke  to  her,  in 
a  quiet,  conversational  tone,  making  remarks  about  the  roads 
and  advising  her  how  to  proceed — all  of  which  she  seemed 
to  understand  perfectly,  and  obeyed  without  hesitation. 

After  leavincf  Shahpore,  the  road  ascended  through  a  wild 
gorge  of  about  half  a  mile,  where  it  reached  the  dividing 
ridge  and  thence  descended  into  a  winding  glen,  which  showed 
traces  of  having  been  worn  through  the  hills  by  the  action 


THE    PASS    OF    TEE    SIWALIK   HILLS.  S20£ 

of  water  Our  path  followed  the  bed  of  the  stream  for  the 
distance  of  eight  miles,  where  the  pass  opens  upon  the  great 
plain.  The  scenery  is  very  wild  and  picturesque,  the  hills 
being  covered  to  their  very  summits  with  jungle,  the  abode 
of  the  tiger  and  wild  elephant.  None  of  the  peaks  are  more 
than  1,000  or  1,200  feet  above  the  bottom  of  the  glen,  yel 
in  their  forms  they  have  a  striking  similarity  to  the  great 
Himalayan  range.  They  are  sharp  and  conical,  frequently 
with  a  perpendicular  front,  like  a  bisected  cone,  and  are 
divided  by  deep  and  abrupt  chasms.  I  was  quite  charmed 
with  the  succession  of  landscapes  which  the  windings  of  the 
pass  brought  to  view,  and  nothing  was  wanting  to  complete 
my  satisfaction  but  the  sight  of  a  tiger.  The  jungle  was 
filled  with  parrots,  a  bird  with  plumage  blue  as  a  turquoise, 
aiid  flocks  of  wild  peacocks  The  plumage  of  the  latter 
bird  is  much  more  brilliant  than  that  of  the  domesticated 
fowl,  although  the  body  is  smaller.  Near  the  entrance  of 
the  pass,  a  large  congregation  of  monkeys,  each  seated  on 
a  huge  boulder  left  by  the  floods,  gravely  watched  me  as 
I  passed. 

At  Mohun  I  found  my  palanquin  standing  in  front  of 
the  Police  office,  which  was  a  bamboo  hut.  The  cheprasseet 
were  very  obsequious  in  their  off'ers  of  service,  and  imme- 
diately called  together  my  bearers.  I  sent  back  the  ele- 
phant, seated  myself  cross-legged  in  the  palanquin,  and 
made  a  very  fair  tiffin  out  of  the  prohibited  cow's-flesh  and 
bread.  Saharunpore  was  twenty-nine  miles  distant,  and  it 
was  already  noon.  I  therefore  urged  on  the  bearers,  in  the 
hope  of  arriving  before  dark.  The  plain  was  very  mono- 
tonous, swept  by  cold  winds  from  the  hills,  and  appeared  like 


206  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

a  desert,  by  contrast  with  the  luxuriant  Dhoon,  The  sna 
went  down,  and  I  was  still  stretched  in  the  tiresome  palan- 
;|uin,  but  about  dusk  the  mussalchee  (torch-bearer)  came  and 
isked  where  they  should  take  me.  I  supposed  there  was  a 
hotel  in  Saharunpore,  and  answered ;  "  to  the  punch  ghur  '" 
(punch-house  or  hotel).  "  Which  one  ? "  he  again  asked. 
At  a  venture,  I  answered:  "the  burra  (large)  punch-ghur." 
Away  they  went,  and  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  the  palanquin 
was  set  down.  "  Here  is  the  punch-house,"  said  the  mus- 
salchee. I  crept  out,  and  found  myself  at  the  door  of  the 
Station  Church!  There  happened,  however,  to  be  some 
natives  passing  through  the  enclosure,  who  directed  me  to 
the  dawk  bungalow,  as  there  was  no  hotel.  I  called  on  the 
Rev.  Mr.  Campbell,  an  American  Missionary,  in  the  course 
of  the  evening,  and  he  at  once  quartered  me  in  his  house. 
As  my  bearers  were  engaged  to  start  for  Meerut  the 
next  morning,  my  kind  host  arose  before  sunrise  and  took 
me  in  his  buggy  to  see  something  of  the  place.  The  can- 
tonments are  scattered  over  a  wide  space,  and  have  not  the 
comfortable  air  of  those  at  Meerut.  The  lanes  are  lined 
with  the  casurena  or  Australian  Pine,  a  lofty,  ragged  look- 
mg  tree,  with  very  long  and  slender  fibres,  which  gives  the 
place  the  air  of  an  English  or  German  country  town.  The 
native  city  has  a  population  of  about  80,000  inhabitants, 
and  appeared  to  be  an  industrious  and  flourishing  place. 
The  American  Mission  at  Saharunpore  is  supported  by  the 
Presbyterian  Board.  The  Missionaries  have  erected  a  hand 
some  church,  two  spacious  dwelling-houses,  and  a  school 
house,  all  within  the  same  enclosure,  besides  an  agency  in 
the  native  town  for  the  distribution  of  books,  ai)d   the  dis 


AMERICAN    MISSIONS.  207 

CLig«ion  of  religious  matters  with  any  of  the  natii^es  whc 
choos(  tc  come  forward.  Mr.  Campbell  was  sanguine  as 
to  the  ultimate  success  of  Missions  in  India.  Their  schools 
?f  education  (embracing  also  religious  instruction)  are  cer 
ainly  doing  much  to  enlighten  the  race;  but  so  far  as  T 
Qould  learn,  very  few  scholars  change  their  faith,  thougl 
educated  as  Christians.  They  look  upon  the  Christian 
Doctrine  very  much  as  we  look  upon  the  Greek  Mythol- 
ogy. They  are  interested  in  it,  they  admire  portions  of  it, 
yet  still  go  on  worshipping  the  lingam,  and  keeping  up  the 
distinctions  of  caste.  I  have  no  doubt  that  casio  is  at  the 
bottom  of  all  this,  and  that  many  who  are  convinced  in  their 
own  hearts  of  the  truth  of  Christianity,  dare  not  avow  it,  on 
account  of  the  ban  of  excommunication  from  their  friends  and 
khidred,  which  would  immediately  follow. 

Mr.  Campbell  took  me  to  the  Botanic  Garden,  where  I 
had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  Dr.  Jameson,  who  has  charge  of 
the  Tea  Culture  in  the  north-west.  The  Garden  is  one 
of  the  finest  in  India.  It  is  laid  out  with  great  taste, 
and  contains  nearly  all  the  indigenous  trees  and  plants, 
besides  many  exotics.  I  there  saw,  for  the  first  time,  a 
cinnamon  tree,  the  large  glossy  leaves  of  which  were  re- 
dolent of  its  spicy  blood.  The  cinnamon  is  brother  to  our 
native  sassafras.  It  is  of  so  refined  and  dainty  a  nature, 
that  there  are  but  few  parts  of  the  world  where  it  will 
grow. 

I  left  Saharunpore  at  ten  o'clock,  congratulating  myself, 
as  I  entered  my  palanquin,  that  it  was  the  last  journey  I 
should  make  in  such  a  disagreeable  vehicle.  It  was  a  veiled, 
30ol  and  dreary  day ;    the  plains  had  even  3  wintry  look,  and 


208  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

notliing  could  be  more  monotonous.  I  was  heartily  sicli 
of  the  journey  before  night.  The  Himalayas  were  so  ob- 
scured that  nothing  but  a  large  leaden-colored  mass  was  to 
hs  seeii  on  the  horizon.  The  road  was  crowded  with  people 
among  whom  were  several  Englishmen  in  their  palanquins, 
OQ  thGlr  way  up  to  the  hills.  Numbers  of  native  women 
also  par»sed,  some  in  the  hackree,  or  bullock-cart,  and  others 
borne  iu  a  dhoolie,  a  rude  sort  of  palanquin  made  of  bamboo, 
and  CQT.ered  with  a  cotton  cloth.  These  are  the  "ferocious 
DLooliOiS,"  who,  according  to  Sheridan,  in  one  of  his  Par 
liameniriry  speeches,  "  carried  off  the  unfortunate  wounded  " 
from  tht3  held  of  battle — the  orator,  ignorant  of  Hindostanee, 
supposing  that  the  "dhoolies"  were  a  tribe  of  savage  people. 

At  dusk  I  reached  a  station  where  the  bearers  were  not 
on  hand,  but  sii^h  vigorous  search  was  made  for  them  that 
I  was  not  detained  more  than  half  an  hour.  The  native 
salutation  in  these  parts  is  "  Ram,  Ram ! "  and  the  answer 
the  same— as  if  one  should  say,  in  English,  "  God,  God ! " 
instead  of  "Good  morning."  I  was  no  longer  addressed  as 
"Protector  of  the  Poor,"  but  received  the  Persian  title  af 
Khodawend,  which  signifies  "  My  Lord."  About  nine  o'clock 
I  reached  Mozuffernuggur,  only  half  way  to  Meerut.  I  rolled 
myself  in  my  quilted  rezaya,  closed  the  palanquin,  except 
^irhen  the  bearers  cried  out  for  backsheesh,  and  so  slept, 
iozed,  and  waked  alternately  through  the  long,  chilly  night 
The  first  streak  of  dawn  showed  me  the  buildings  of  Sird 
hana  (the  former  residence  of  the  famous  Begum  Somroo) 
on  the  right,  and  just  as  the  sun  rose  the  shivering  bearew 
set  me  down  at  the  hotel  in  Meerut. 

I  visited  the  unwashed  individual  of  whom  1  spoke  in  t 


THE    ROAD    TO    CAWNPOEE.  209 

former  chapter,  returned  him  his  palanquin,  and  then  .engaged 
a  garree  to  Cawnpore.  The  distance  was  273  miles,  and  the 
cost  of  a  comfortable  garree,  with  relays  of  horses,  about 
$16.  In  order  to  rest,  and  to  allow  time  for  the  necessary 
preparations  to  be  made,  I  did  not  leave  until  evening — a  delay 
which  enabled  the  native  servants  at  the  hotel  to  steal  from 
me  a  handsome  box  of  Cashmere  manufacture — the  present 
of  a  friend — containing  several  beautiful  Delhi  miniatures. 
T  did  not  discover  the  loss  until  reaching  Cawnpore,  and 
was  the  more  annoyed  at  it,  as  there  was  then  no  chancf 
of  replacing  the  miniatures. 

The  night  of  leaving  Meerut,  I  again  passed  Allyghur, 
much  to  my  regret,  for  I  desired  to  see  the  famous  pillar 
of  Coal.  Morning  dawned  on  the  plains  of  Hindostan. 
There  is  almost  as  little  variety  in  the  aspect  of  these  im- 
mense plains  as  in  that  of  the  open  sea.  The  same  fields  of 
wheat,  poppies,  grain  and  mustard  alternate  with  the  same 
mango  or  tamarind  groves;  the  Hindoo  temples  by  the 
roidr-idf  are  the  same  dreary  architectural  deformities,  and 
the  villages  you  pass,  the  same  collections  of  mud  walls, 
thatched  roofs  and  bamboo  verandahs,  tenanted  by  the  same 
family  of  hideous  fakeers,  naked  children,  ugly  women 
(w\io  try  to  persuade  you  that  they  are  beautiful,  by  hiding 
their  faces),  and  beggars  in  every  stage  of  deformity.  But 
I  noticed,  as  I  proceeded  southward,  spacious  caravanserais, 
built  of  burnt  brick,  though  ruined  and  half  deserted ;  richei 
groves  of  tamarind  and  brab  palm;  and  the  minarets  and 
pagodas  of  large  towns  which  the  road  skirted,  but  did  not 
enter.  I  stopped  at  the  bungalow  of  Etah  for  breakfast, 
which  was  ready  in  an  hour.      The  bungalows  on  this  road 


210  INDIA,  CHINA,  AND  JAPAN. 

are  much  superior  to  those  in  other  parts  of  India.  Th« 
floors  are  carpeted,  and  there  are  mattrasses  and  pillows  on 
the  charpoys.  The  rooms  have  a  neat,  homelike  air,  and 
are  truly  oases  in  that  vast  wilderness — for  such  India  still 
is,  except  where  the  European  hand  has  left  its  trace.  The 
day  passed  away  like  other  days  on  the  plains  It  was  warm 
luring  the  mid-hours,  and  the  road  was  very  dusty,  in  spite 
of  the  recent  rains.  It  is  a  magnificent  highway,  and  would 
Qot  suffer  by  comparison  with  any  in  Europe.  The  amount 
of  travel  is  so  great,  that  from  sunrise  until  sunset,  I  beheld 
an  almost  unbroken  procession  of  natives  of  all  descriptions, 
from  the  Affghan  and  Sikh,  to  the  Goorkha  of  the  hills  and 
the  Mahratta  of  the  Deccan,  with  tattoos  (as  the  little  coun- 
try ponies  are  called),  camels,  elephants,  Persian  steeds,  buffa- 
loes, palanquins,  dhoolies,  hackrees,  bullock  trains,  and  the 
garrees  of  luxurious  travellers  like  myself.  I  can,  huwever, 
feel  neither  the  same  interest  in,  nor  respect  for,  the  natives 
of  India,  as  for  the  Arab  races  of  Africa  and  Syria.  The 
lower  castes  are  too  servile,  too  vilely  the  slaves  of  a  de- 
grading superstition,  and  too  much  given  to  cheating  and 
lying.  One  cannot  use  familiarity  towards  them,  without 
encouraging  them  to  impertinence.  How  different  from  my 
humble  companions  of  the  Nubian  Desert! 

About  noon  I  passed  Mynpoorie,  a  civil  and  missionary 
Btation,  though  not,  I  believe,  a  military  cantonment.  To- 
wards evening  I  stopped  for  an  hour  at  another  bungalow, 
to  take  dinner,  and  then  started  for  Cawnpore.  The  drivei 
was  changed  again  at  dusk,  and  as  I  was  very  thirsty,  I 
asked  him  to  get  me  a  drink  of  water,  before  giving  him 
his  backsheesh.     Unfortunately,  I   had   forgotten  to  bring  t 


THE   POLLUTION   OP    TOUCH.  21  i 

glass  with  me,  and  tlie  people  refused  to  let  me  touch  one 
of  t'heir  brass  drinking-vessels,  as  this  would  occasion  them 
a  violent  scouring,  if  not  the  destruction  of  the  article. 
After  some  search,  a  clay  vessel  of  the  rudest  description 
was  found,  with  a  spout  like  a  tea-pot,  and  I  was  allowed 
to  drink  by  holding  it  above  my  head  and  pouring  the 
stream  down  my  throat.  I  had  learned  the  trick  of  thia 
on  the  Nile,  or  it  might  have  been  a  strangling  matter. 
To  such  an  extent  are  the  accursed  laws  of  caste  carried, 
that  where  the  English  have  ruled  for  nearly  a  century, 
their  very  touch  is  defilement.  On  my  trip  from  Bombay 
to  Agra,  being  ignorant  of  the  practical  operation  of  these 
laws,  I  frequently  helped  myself  to  the  cups  of  the  natives, 
when  they  refused  to  furnish  me  with  drink.  In  this  way, 
very  innocently,  I  occasioned  the  destruction  of  considerable 
jrockery. 

We  had  several  fractious  horses  during  the  night,  but 
I  had  learned  patience  by  long  experience,  and  so  lay  still 
and  let  the  beast  take  his  course.  I  think  we  must  have 
been  detained  in  one  spot  nearly  half  an  hour,  by  a  horse 
that  would  dash  from  side  to  side,  obstinately  refusing  to 
go  forward.  In  the  traveller's  book  at  the  bungalow  where 
I  dined,  I  read  the  memorandum  of  a  gentleman  who  had 
been  left  in  the  lurch  by  the  driver  and  groom,  after  they 
had  taken  the  bits  out  of  the  horse's  mouth.  He  was  ruu 
away  with,  and  narrowly  escaped  being  dashed  to  pieces. 
[  feared,  once  or  twice,  that  I  might  have  the  same  driver 
and  groom,  and  the  same  wicked  tattoo.  At  last,  when  the 
Great  Bear  (my  nocturnal  dial)  had  passed  his  occultation 
and  I  knew  that  the  dawn  would  appear  in  half  an  hour, 


212  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

was  set  down  at  the  Cawnpore  Hotel.  SLortly  after  1 
arrived,  a  salute  of  nineteen  guns  announced  the  departure 
of  the  Governor  of  the  North-West. 

Looking  out  of  the  window  of  my  room,  after  sunrise, 
I  saw  the  Ganges  flowing  beneath  it — not  a  spaikling  moun- 
tain stream,  as  at  Hurdwar,  but  a  deep,  muddy  river,  lined 
with  barges.  The  opposite  bank  was  a  beach  of  white  sand, 
which  glared  painfully  in  the  sun.  After  a  visit  to  a  half- 
blood,  or  Eurasian  banker,  I  went  to  the  Joint  Magistrate 
Capt.  Riddell,  whom  I  found  dispensing  justice  to  the 
natives,  under  the  shade  of  a  huge  umbrella  tent,  in  the 
midst  of  his  own  umbrageous  compound.  He  received  me 
very  courteously,  and  insisted  on  my  removing  to  his  house 
but  as  I  had  made  arrangements  to  leave  the  same  evening 
for  Lucknow,  I  could  only  promise  to  spend  Saturday 
morning  with  him  after  my  return. 

Cawnpore  is  a  pleasant  spot,  though  it  contains  nothing 
whatever  to  interest  the  traveller.  It  is  one  of  the  largest 
cantonments  in  the  Mofussil  (the  Anglo-Indian  term  for 
the  rural  districts),  and  the  scattering  bungalows  of  the 
civil  and  military  residents  extend  for  five  miles  along  the 
western  bank  of  the  Ganges,  which  is  high  and  steep.  The 
town  is  shaded  with  neera  trees  of  great  size.  In  walking 
past  the  bungalows,  I  noticed  many  elegant  and  well  kept 
gardens,  and  was  more  than  once  greeted  with  the  delicious 
odor  of  violets  in  bloom.  Close  beside  the  beds  of  this 
humble  Saxon  flower  hung  the  scarlet  buds  of  the  Syrian 
pomegranate,  or  the  tattered  plumes  of  the  tropical  banana. 
The  residences  are  large,  but  their  enormous  roofs  of  thatch 
contrast    oddly  witb    verandahs    supported   by   Ionic    pillars 


CAWNPORE. 


213 


The  Church  is  a  large  Gothic  edifice,  English  from  turict 
to  foundatiori  stone,  and  an  exile,  like  those  who  built  it. 
A  Gothic  building  looks  as  strangely  among  palm-trees,  ai 
in  Oriental  palace  on  the  shores  of  Long  Island  Sound 


CHAPTER    X  VII. 

A     DAY      AT     LUCKNOW. 

{jrossing  the  Ganges— Night-Journey  to  Lucknow— Arrival— A  Mysterious  Vteltor— A 
Morning  Stroll — The  Goomtee  River — An  Oriental  Picture — The  Crowds  of  Lack 
now — Col.  Sleeman,  the  Resident — Drive  through  the  City — The  Constantrnopl* 
Gate — Architectural  Effects — The  Imambarra — Gardens  and  Statues — Singular  Dec- 
orations of  the  Tomb — ^The  Chandeliers — Speculation  in  Oude — Hospital  and  Mosque 
— The  King's  New  Palace — The  Martiniere — Royalty  Plundered— The  Dog  and  the 
Rose-Watsr — Destruction  of  the  King's  Sons — The  Explosion  of  a  Fiend — Misrule 
iu  Oude — Wealth  of  Lucknow — A  Ride  on  a  Royal  Elephant — The  Queen-Dowa- 
ger's Mosque — Navigating  the  Streets — A  Squeeze  of  Elephants— The  Place  of  Ei» 
cution — The  Choke — Splendor  and  Corruption, 

The  post-garrce  for  Lucknow  called  for  me  in  the  evening, 
at  the  hotel.  There  is  a  good  road  from  Cawnpore  to  the 
former  place,  with  communication  twice  a  day,  and  the  dis- 
tance, fifty-three  miles,  is  usually  made  in  seven  hours.  In  a 
few  minutes  after  leaving,  we  reached  the  bridge  of  boats  over 
the  Ganges,  where  I,  as  the  passenger,  was  obliged  to  pay 
half  a  rupee  at  each  end.  This  is  a  regulation  peculiar  to 
the  Cawnpore  bridge,  distinguishing  it  from  all  others  in 
the  world.  After  crossing  the  river,  we  came  upon  a  long 
plank  causeway,  extending  over  the  sandy  flats  on  the  op- 
posite side.      The  night  was  dark  and  damp,  and  I  closed 


A    MYSTERIOUS    VISITOR.  215 

the  panels  on  each  side  and  disposed  myself  to  sleep.  The 
country  between  the  two  places  is  an  extension  of  the  great 
plain,  and  there  is  nothing  on  the  road  worth  seeing. 

On  awaking  out  of  a  sound  sleep,  about  three  o'clock 
in  the  morning,  I  found  the  garree  standing  before  the  dooi 
of  the  dawk  bungalow  and  post-office,  which  are  both  in 
one  building.  The  drowsy  chokedar  showed  me  into  a 
room  with  eight  doors,  containing  a  table  and  charpoy 
covered  with  a  rude  mattrass.  I  tried  to  fasten  the  doors 
but  four  of  them,  which  led  into  other  parts  of  the  build- 
ing, had  no  locks.  I  then  half  undressed  and  lay  down  on 
the  mattrass  to  finish  my  night's  rest.  It  might  have  been 
an  hour  afterward,  as  I  was  lying  in  that  dim  condition 
betwixt  sleeping  and  waking,  when  I  heard  a  slight  noise 
at  one  of  the  doors — a  muffled  vibration,  as  if  it  had  sud- 
denly opened  to  a  gentle  pressure.  Listening  intently,  with 
all  my  senses  preternaturally  sharpened,  I  heard  a  very 
slow  and  cautious  footstep  upon  the  matting,  and  was  try 
mg  to  ascertain  in  which  direction  it  moved,  when  I  dis- 
tinctly felt  the  gentlest  touch  in  the  world,  as  if  some  one 
had  passed  his  hand  down  my  side.  I  sprang  up  in  some 
alarm,  uttering  an  involuntary  exclamation,  but  could  nei- 
ther see  nor  hear  any  thing,  nor  did  any  thing  appear  until 
I  became  fatigued  with  watching,  and  fell  asleep  again 
But,  from  the  fact  that  several  attempts  at  robbery  were 
made  the  same  night,  I  have  no  doubt  whatever  that  it  was 
an  artful  thief  in  search  of  plunder,  and  probably  one  of 
fehose  adroit  scamps  to  be  found  only  in  India,  who  will  take 
the  clothes  off  a  man's  back  while  he  is  asleep,  without 
awaking  him. 


216  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

A-fier  an  early  cup  of  tea,  I  started  off  on  a  solitaij 
atroll,  postponing  my  visit  to  Col.  Sleeman,  the  English 
Itesident,  until  after  breakfast.  I  set  out  at  random,  but 
soon  ascertained  the  direction  in  which  the  principal  part 
of  the  city  lay,  by  glimpses  of  its  fortress  walls,  domes  and 
airy  minarets.  I  did  not  feel  inclined,  however,  to  plunge 
into  its  depths  without  a  guide,  but  followed  the  course  of 
a  bazaar,  which  was  filled  with  venders  of  fruit,  vegetables 
and  firewood.  Crowds  of  people  passed  to  and  fro,  the 
gaudy  dresses  of  many  of  the  natives  betraying,  as  at  Delhi, 
the  presence  of  a  native  court.  Some  were  borne  in  palan- 
(|uins,  some  mounted  on  elephants,  and  a  few  on  fine  horses 
of  Arabian  bl^od.  They  looked  at  me  with  curiosity,  as  if 
an  Englishman  on  foot  was  an  unusual  sight.  On  the  waj? 
I  passed  several  small  mosques,  which  showed  an  odd  mix- 
ture of  the  Saracenic  and  Hindoo  styles,  a  hybrid  in  which 
the  elegance  of  Saracenic  architecture  was  quite  lost.  Which- 
ever way  I  looked,  I  saw  in  the  distance,  through  the  morn- 
mcr  vapors,  the  towers  of  Hindoo  temples,  or  the  bulbous 
domes  of  mosques,  many  of  them  gilded,  and  flasliing  in 
the  rays  of  the  sun. 

The  street  I  had  chosen  led  me  to  a  bridge  over  the  rivei 
Goomtee,  which  here  flows  eastward,  and  skirts  the  northern 
side  of  the  city.  The  word  Goomtee  means  literally,  "  The 
Twister,  "  on  account  of  the  sinuous  course  of  the  river.  Look- 
ing westward  from  the  centre  of  the  bridge,  there  is  a  beautiful 
view  of  the  city.  Further  up  the  river,  which  flowed  with  a 
gentle  current  between  grassy  and  shaded  banks,  was  an  ancient 
stone  bridge,  with  lofty  pointed  arches.  The  left  bank  tom 
gradually  from  the  water,  forming  a  long  hill,  which  was  crown 


AN    ORIENTAL    PICTURE.  211 

ed  with  palaces  and  mosques,  stretching  away  into  the  distance 
where  a  crowd  of  fainter  minarets  told  of  splendors  beyond.  The 
coup  d'oeil  resembled  that  of  Constantinople,  from  the  bridge 
across  the  Golden  Horn,  and  was  more  imposing,  more  pictu- 
esque  and  truly  Oriental  than  that  of  any  other  city  in  India. 
The  right  bank  was  level,  and  so  embowered  in  foliage  that  only 
few  domes  and  towers  were  visible  above  the  sea  of  sycamores, 
banyans,  tamarind,  acacia,  neem  and  palm-trees.     I  loitered  on 
the  bridge  so  long,  enjoying  the  refreshing  exhilaration  of  such 
a  prospect,  that  I  am  afraid  the  dignity  of  the  great  English 
race,  in  my  person,  was  much  lessened  in  the  eyes  of  the  natives. 
The  picture,  so  full  of  Eastern  pomp  and  glitter,  enhanced 
by  the  luxuriance  of  Nature,  was  made  complete  by  the  char- 
acter of  the  human  life  that  animated  it.     Here  were  not  mere 
ly  menials,  in  scanty  clothing,  or  sepoys  undergoing  daily  pillo- 
ry in  tight  coats  and  preposterous  stocks,  but  scores  of  emirs, 
cadis,  writers,  and  the  like,  attired  in  silken  raiment  and  splen- 
didly turbaned,  continually  passing  to  and  fro,  with  servants 
running  before  them,  dividing  the   crowds  for  the  passage  ot 
their  elephants.     The  country  people  were  pouring  into  the  city 
by  thousands,  laden  with  their  produce,  and  the  bazaars  of  fruit 
and   vegetables,  which   seemed  interminable,  were   constantly 
thronged.     At  first  I  imagined  it   must  be  some  unusual  occa- 
sion which  had  called  such  numbers  of  the  inhabitants  into  the 
streets ;  but  I  was  told  that  they  were  always  as  crowded  as 
then,  and  that  the  population  of  Lucknow  is  estimated  at  800,- 
000  inhabitants !     It  is,  therefore,  one  of  the  most  populous 
cities  n  Asia,  and  may  be  ranked  with  Paris  and  Constantino- 
pie,  in  Europe.     Its  length  is  seven  miles,  the  extre.ue  bread  tit 
four  miles,  and  the  central  part  is  very  densely  populated. 
10 


%IQ  INDIA,    CHINA      AND    JAPAN. 

After  breakfasting  at  the  bungalow,  I  called  upon  (3ol  Sleo 
man,  the  East  India  Company's  Resident,  whose  works  on  In- 
dia, combined  with  his  labors  for  the  extirpation  of  the  Thugs 
or  Stranglers,  have  made  his  name  known  in  Europe  and 
America.  The  Residency  is  a  large  and  lofty  building,  deserv- 
ing the  name  of  a  palace,  and  surrounded  by  beautiful  gardens. 
I  had  no  letter  to  Col.  Sleeman,  but  took  the  liberty  of  asking 
his  advice  relative  to  the  things  best  worth  seeing  in  Lucknow, 
as  I  had  but  a  day  to  spare.  Nothing  could  exceed  the  prompt 
and  kind  response  of  that  gentleman.  He  immediately  order- 
ed his  carriage,  and  as  he  was  personally  occupied,  sent  one  of 
his  native  secretaries  to  conduct  me  through  the  city.  I  en- 
tered the  bazaar  again  in  grand  style,  with  postilion,  grooms  and 
footmen,  who  ran  in  advance  to  clear  a  way,  and  obliged  even 
the  elephants  to  stand  on  one  side.  Nevertheless  the  streets 
were  so  densely  crowded,  that  we  proceeded  very  slowly.  Af- 
ter threading  the  masses  of  the  populace  for  about  a  mile  and  a 
half,  between  rows  of  three-story  native  houses,  mosques,  and 
caravanserais,  we  reached  what  appeared  to  be  the  heart  of  the 
city.  A  spacious  gateway  spanned  the  street,  over  which  a  for 
est  of  tall  minarets  and  gilded  domes  rose  in  the  distance. 
Passing  through  the  arch,  we  entered  an  open  square,  with  a 
large  mosque  and  hospital  on  the  left  side,  and  a  magnificent 
gate  of  white  marble  beyond.  This  is  called  the  Roomee  Der- 
wazee  or  Constantinople  Gate,  from  an  idea  that  it  is  copied 
from  a  gate  in  that  city,  but  I  have  no  recollection  of  any  gate 
there  which  even  remotely  resembles  it. 

After  passing  the  Roomee  Derwazee,  I  was  startled  by  the 
imexpected  splendor  of  the  scene.  I  was  in  the  centre  of  a 
group  of  tombs,  mosques  and  pavilions,  all  of  which  were  of 


THE    IMAMBARRA.  219 

marble  or  covered  with  white  stucco,  and  surmounted  with 
swelling  Oriental  domes,  which  shone  like  solid  gold— fitting 
crowns  to  the  slender  arches,  and  the  masses  of  Saracenic  fili- 
gree  and  fretwork,  from  which  thej  sprang.  A  huge  stona 
tank,  with  flights  of  steps  descending  into  it  on  all  sides,  occu- 
pied  the  foreground  of  the  picture.  Around  its  banks,  and  be- 
tween  the  dazzling  pavilions,  ran  a  boskage  of  roses  in  full 
bloom,  in  the  midst  of  which  a  few  tall  palms  shot  up  into  the 
sunshine.  It  was  nearly  noon,  and  the  sun,  now  almost  vertical, 
poured  such  an  unrelieved  glare  upon  the  scene,  that  my  eyes 
were  not  strong  enough  to  endure  it  for  more  than  two  or  three 
minutes. 

On  the  left  was  the  gate  of  the  Imambarra,  or  tomb  of 
Azuf  ed-Dowlah,  one  of  the  former  Nawabs  of  Oude,  and  here 
the  carriage  drew  up.  I  alighted,  and  entered  a  quadrangle 
surrounded  by  the  same  dazzling  white  architecture,  with  gild- 
ed domes  blazing  against  the  intense  blue  of  the  sky.  The  en- 
closed space  was  a  garden,  in  which  stood  two  beautiful  mauso- 
leums of  marble.  Several  feeble  fountains  played  among  the 
flowers,  and  there  was  a  long  pool  in  the  midst,  with  a  bridge  over 
it,  and  grotesque  wooden  figures  of  sepoys,  of  the  size  of  life, 
standing  guard  at  each  end.  Scattered  about  the  garden  were 
also  several  copies  in  plaster  of  classical  statues,  and  one  in 
marble  of  Action  and  his  hounds.  Although  Lucknow  is  a 
thoroughly  Moslem  city,  most  of  the  inhabitants,  as  well  as 
the  royal  family,  belong  to  the  sect  of  Sheeahs—the  descendants 
of  the  partisans  of  Ali — who  do  not  scruple  to  make  pictures  oi 
models  of  living  things.  This  is  a  cause  of  great  annoyance  and 
sorrow  to  the  Sonnees,  or  orthodox  Mussulmen,  who  hold  it  to 
'}e  a  sin  in  the  sight  of  God.     The  idea  originated,  no  doubt 


220  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

in  the  icon  jclastic  zeal  of  the  Prophet  and  his  immediate  snr^- 
cessors. 

On  ascending  the  marble  steps  leading  to  the  edifice  at  the 
bottom  of  the  garden,  I  imagined  for  a  moment  that  I  behelc 
a  manufactory  of  chandeliers.  Through  the  open  marble  arch- 
es nothing  else  was  at  first  visible.  The  whole  building  waf 
hung  with  them — immense  pyramids  of  silver,  gold,  prismatic 
crystals  and  colored  glass — and  where  they  were  too  heavy 
to  be  hung,  they  rose  in  radiant  piles  from  the  floor.  In  the 
midst  of  them  were  temples  of  silver  filigree,  eight  or  ten  feet 
high,  and  studded  with  cornelians,  agates  and  emeralds.  These 
were  the  tojabs.  The  place  was  a  singular  jumble  of  precious 
objects.  There  were  ancient  banners  of  the  Nawabs  of  Oude, 
heavy  with  sentences  from  the  Koran,  embroidered  in  gold ; 
gigantic  hands  of  silver,  covered  with  talismanic  words ;  sacred 
shields,  studded  with  the  names  of  God ;  swords  of  Khorassan 
steel,  lances  and  halberds ;  the  turbans  of  renowned  command- 
ers; the  trappings  of  the  white  horse  of  Nasr  ed-Deen,  mount- 
ed on  a  wooden  effigy ;  and  several  pulpits  of  peculiar  sanctity. 
I  had  some  difficulty  in  making  out  a  sort  of  centaur,  with  a 
Human  head  eyes  of  agate,  a  horse's  body  of  silver,  and  a  pea- 
cock's tail,  but  was  solemnly  informed  that  it  was  a  correct  re- 
^)resentation  of  the  beast  Borak,  on  which  the  Prophet  made 
his  journey  to  Paradise.  The  bridle  was  held  by  two  dumpy 
angels,  also  of  silver,  and  on  each  side  stood  a  tiger  about  fivfi 
feet  long  and  made  of  transparent  blue  glass.  These,  I  was 
told,  came  from  Japan. 

I  had  some  difficulty  in  believing  that  this  curiosity  shop 
was  the  tomb  of  the  Poet-King,  Azuf  ed-Dowlah ;  but  so  il 
Wrs      The  decorations  are  principally  due  to  the  taste  of  the 


SPECULATION    IN    ODDB.  22  i 

present  king  wlio  is  silly  almost  to  imbecility,  and  pajs  tli€ 
most  absui'd  sums  for  his  chandeliers  and  glass  tigers.  The  two 
finest  chandeliers  cost  him  $50,000  each ;  but  it  is  not  to  be 
supposed  th^t  all  this  "money  went  into  the  pocket  of  the  mcr 
hant.  The  Grand- Vizier,  and  other  officers  of  Court,  had  theii 
shares,  down  to  the  eunuchs.  The  King  gave  a  small  garden 
palace  to  one  of  his  wives  not  long  ago.  A  wall  was  necessary 
to  screen  a  part  of  the  garden  from  the  view  of  the  public,  and  a 
mason  was  called  upon  to  undertake  the  work.  On  being  asked 
to  state  the  cost  he  at  first  said  100,000  rupees,  but,  calcu 
lating  afterwards,  that  of  this  sum  the  Grrand- Vizier  would 
keep  the  half,  the  Minister  of  the  Treasury  20,000  rupees,  and 
various  other  privileged  bloodsuckers  a  proportionate  share, 
while  the  building  of  the  wall  would  actually  cost  5,000  ru- 
pees, he  gave  up  the  contract,  as  a  losing  job !  No  description 
can  fully  illustrate  the  corruption  of  the  Court  of  Oude.  It  is 
a  political  ulcer  of  the  most  virulent  kind,  and  there  is  no  reii> 
edy  but  excision.  For  the  sake  of  Humanity,  the  East  India 
Company  would  be  fully  justified  in  deposing  the  monarch 
and  bringing  the  kingdom  under  its  own  rule. 

Returning  through  the  Constantinople  Gate,  I  entered  tlie 
large  building  adjacent,  which  was  formerly  a  hospital,  and 
Btill  contains  the  tomb  of  its  royal  founder.  Its  architecture 
is  purer  than  that  of  the  Imambarra.  The  proportions  of  the 
halls  are  admirable,  and  the  deep  embroidered  arches  of  the  por 
tico  have  the  finest  effect.  Adjoining  this  edifice  is  a  mosque 
built  upon  a  lofty  platform  of  masonry.  It  is  an  ambitious 
^ork,  but  falls  behind  those  of  Delhi,  and  the  minarets  are  so 
large  as  to  be  out  of  all  proportion.  On  the  return  to  Col 
Sleemau's,  I  pass'^d  under  the  walls  of  an  old  palace,  whict 


222  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

were  lined  with  massive  buttresses.     I  was  told  that  it  is  iisei 
as  a  retreat  for  the  wives  of  former  kings. 

Oapt.  Sleeman  (the  Resident's  nephew),  who  has  charge 
of  suppressing  the  Dacoits,  or  organized  robber-bands  of  India, 
took  me  upon  the  flat  roof  of  the  Residency,  whence  there  is  a 
fine  panorama  of  Lucknow.  Two-thirds  of  the  city  are  aa 
3ompletely  buried  in  foliage  as  the  suburbs  of  Damascus.  To  the 
east,  at  a  short  distance,  was  the  king's  new  palace,  where  he  at 
present  resides — a  line  of  white  walls  and  terraces,  about  half  a 
mile  in  length,  and  topped  with  a  mass  of  gilded  towers  and 
domes.  Permission  to  visit  it  is  not  given  without  application 
two  or  three  days  previous,  so  that  I  was  obliged  to  be  content 
with  an  outside  view.  Near  it  is  the  palace  of  Ferozo  Buksh 
another  cluster  of  gilded  domes,  and  in  the  distance  the  marble 
tower  of  the  Martiniere.  This  is  a  college  founded  by  General 
Martine,  a  French  adventurer,  who  came  out  to  India  as  a  com- 
mon soldier,  entered  the  service  of  the  King  of  Oude,  and  died 
a  millionnaire.  The  building,  which  is  of  marble,  and  in  a  style 
of  architecture  resembling  nothing  on  Earth  (nor,  I  should  hope, 
in  Heaven),  was  erected  by  him  during  his  lifetime,  as  a  palace 
for  the  King.  The  latter,  however,  refused  to  take  it  off  his 
hands,  secretly  resolving  to  seize  upon  it  as  soon  as  the  old 
General  was  dead.  Martine,  who  knew  much  more  of  human 
nature  than  of  architecture,  determined  to  block  this  game  of 
the  King,  and  when  he  died,  had  himself  buried  in  a  vault 
made  under  the  foundation  of  the  building,  where  he  still  lies, 
with  a  company  of  soldiers  in  effigy,  keeping  guard  over  his  re- 
mains. No  Mussulman  will  sleep  in  a  house  where  any  one  is 
buried  and  the  King  was  obliged  to  respect  the  General's  will 


THE     DOG     AN-D    THE     ROSE-WATER.  223 

Which  devoted  the  bmlding  to  a  college,  under  the  name  of 
the  Martiniere. 

To  such  an  extent  are  the  Kings  of  Oucle  plundered  that 
a  French  cook,  who  spent  some  years  in  the  service  of  a 
former  monarch,  is  reported  to  have  gone  home  with  a  for- 
tune of  $350,000.     It  was  recently  discovered  that  one  of 
the  parasites  of  the  Court  had  been  receiving  two  seers  (four 
lbs.)  of  rose-water  and  a  jar  of  sweetmeats  daily  for  thirty 
years-and  for  what  service?  The  father  of  the  present  King 
was  annoyed,  thirty  years  ago,  by  the  barking  of  a  dog.  He 
sent  for  the  owner,  and  commanded  him  to  silence  the  animal. 
''  Your  Majesty,"  said  the  man,  -  nothing  will  stop  his  bark- 
ing, unless  he  has  two  seers  of  rose-water  and  a  jar  of  sweet- 
meats given  him  every  day."   -Take  them,  then,"  said  the 
Kmg,  -  only  let  us  have  no  more  noise."     The  knave  took 
his  rose-water  and  sweetmeats  daily,  and  lived  luxuriously 
upon  the  proceeds  for  thirty  years. 

The  present  King  is  even  more  foolish  and  credulous,  al- 
though  he  has  received  a  good  iiterarj  education,  and  has 'the 
Persian  poets  at  his  tongue's  end.  Although  not  more  than  fortj 
years  old,  his  excesses  have  already  reduced  him  to  a  state  oi 
impotence.     Nevertheless,  his  wives  and  eunuchs  flatter  him 
that  he  has  begotten  a  large  number  of  children,  who  are  car- 
ried  off  by  a  demon  as  soon  as  they  are  born.     About  once  a 
week  (so  I  was  informed)  the  Chief  Eunuch  rushes  into  his  pres- 
ence,  exclaiming  in  great  apparent  joy,  "  0  Lord  of  the  World 
a  son  is  born  unto  you ! "  "  Praise  be  to  God !  "  exclaims  th« 
kappy  King;  "  which  of  my  wives  has  bet,n  so  highly  honored  ? » 
The  eunuch  names  one  of  them,  and  the  King  rises  in  greal 
haste  to  Tiait  her  and  behold  his  new  offspring      But  sudden 


224  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN 

\y  cries  and  shrieks  resound  from  the  women's  apartments.  A 
band  of  females  bursts  into  the  room,  shrieking  and  lamenting 
<  0  great  King !  a  terrible  demon  suddenly  appeared  amongsl 
us.  He  snatched  your  beautiful  son  out  of  the  nurse's  arms  and 
flew  through  the  window  with  a  frightful  noise."  And  so  this 
trick  is  repeated  from  week  to  week,  and  the  poor  fool  con 
tinually  laments  over  his  lost  children. 

Not  long  since  a  Portuguese  mountebank  happened  to  heai 
of  this  delusion.  He  repaired  to  the  King,  told  him  that  he 
had  discovered  the  nature  of  the  demon  that  had  molested  him, 
and  would  destroy  him,  for  a  certain  sum.  The  King  agreed 
to  the  terms,  and  in  a  few  days,  the  people  of  Lucknow  were 
startled  by  seeing  a  great  body  of  workmen  engaged  in  dig- 
ging trenches  in  a  meadow  near  the  river.  After  several  days' 
labor,  they  threw  up  a  rude  fortification  of  earth,  in  the  centre 
of  which  they  buried  several  barrels  of  powder.  The  Por- 
tuguese declared  that  he  was  in  the  possession  of  charms,  which 
wo  aid  entice  the  demon  into  the  fort,  whereupon  the  train 
should  be  fired,  and  instantly  blow  him  to  atoms.  A  favorable 
night  was  selected  for  the  operation,  and  the  inhabitants  of  the 
city  were  shaken  out  of  their  beds  by  a  terrific  explosion,  fol- 
lowed by  a  salvo  of  121  guns,  as  a  peal  of  rejoicing  over  the 
slaughter  of  the  demon.  But  alas !  the  scattered  fragments  oi 
the  fiend  reunited,  and  he  has  since  then  carried  off  nearly  a 
score  of  the  King's  new-born  progeny. 

This  weakness  of  character,  it  may  readily  be  imagined, 
is  the  prime  cause  of  the  evils  under  wnich  Oude  is  groaning. 
The  Grand-Vizier  is  an  unprincipled  tyrant,  and  to  such  a  de 
gree  of  resistance  have  the  people  been  driven,  that  the  reve 
Hues  are  collected  yearly  with  cannon,  and  a  large  armed  force 


MISRULE     IX     OUDE.  225 

Oude  is  the  garden  of  India,  and  though  now  so  waste  and 
exhausted,  from  a  long  course  of  spoliation,  yields  a  revenue 
of  three  crores  of  rupees  ($15,000,000),  only  one  third  of 
which  reaches  the  King's  hands.  The  rest  is  swallowed  up 
by  the  band  of  venal  sycophants  who  surround  him.  An 
officer  who  knew  Oude  in  the  reign  of  Saadet  Ali,  forty-five 
years  ago,  told  me  that  he  remembered  the  time  when  all  the 
country  from  Lucknow  to  Benares  bloomed  like  a  garden 
and  overflowed  with  plenty.  jS^ow  it  is  waste,  impoverished, 
andfast  relapsing  into  jungle.  Thousands  of  people  annually 
make  their  escape  over  the  frontier,  into  the  Company's  ter- 
ritories, and  at  Cawnpore  it  is  not  unusual  to  see  them  swim- 
ming the  river  under  a  volley  of  balls  from  their  pursuers. 
Great  numbers  of  males  of  the  lower  classes  enlist  as  sepoys, 
in  the  Company's  regiments,  and  it  is  estimated  that  of 
200,000  natives  from  all  parts  of  India  who  now  serve  in 
the  army,  40,000  are  from  Oude  alone. 

Nevertheless,  there  is  far  more  life,  gaiety  and  appearance 
of  wealth  in  Lucknow  than  any  other  native  city  in  India. 
This  is  principally  accounted  for  by  the  large  sums  that  flow 
into  the  city  from  other  quarters.  The  former  monarchs  of 
Oude,  fearful  of  revolutions  which  might  thrust  their  families 
from  the  succession,  were  in  the  habit  of  lending  large  sums  to 
the  East  India  Company,  at  an  interest  of  five  per  cent.,  for 
the  purpose  of  securing  some  property  for  their  posterity,  in 
ease  of  trouble.  Of  late  years  the  Company  has  declined  to 
receive  any  more  such  loans,  but  still  continues  to  pay  interest 
on  £6,000,000.  At  present  many  of  the  rich  men  of  Oude  in- 
rest  their  surplus  funds  in  the  Company's  paper.  There  are 
Desides  many  pensioners  of  the  Government  residing  in  Luck- 
aow,  and  it  is  estuuated  that  in  addition  to  the  interest  paid,  12C 
10* 


226  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

lacs  of  rupees  ($6,000,000),  come  into  Oude  yearly  from  thf 
Company's  territories. 

In  the  afternoon,  Capt.  Sleeman  kindly  offered  to  accom 
pany  me  on  a  second  excursion  through  Lucknow.  We  were 
joined  by  one  of  his  friends,  and  mounted  on  three  of  the 
King's  largest  elephants.  "With  our  gilded  howdahs,  long  crim- 
son housings,  and  the  resplendent  dresses  of  the  drivers  and 
umbrella-holders  who  sat  behind  us,  on  the  elephants'  rumps, 
we  made  as  stately  a  show  as  any  of  the  native  princes.  It  waa 
the  fashionable  hour  for  appearing  in  public,  and,  as  we  entered 
the  broad  street  leading  to  the  Roomee  Derwazee,  it  was  filled 
with  a  long  string  of  horses  and  elephants,  surging  slowly 
through  the  dense  crowd  of  pedestrians.  We  plunge  boldly 
into  the  tumult,  and,  having  the  royal  elephants,  and  footmen 
gifted  with  a  ten-man  power  of  lungs,  make  our  way  without 
difficulty.  It  is  a  barbaric  pageant  wholly  to  my  liking,  and 
as  I  stare  solemnly  at  the  gorgeous  individuals  on  the  elephants 
that  pass  us,  I  forget  that  I  have  not  a  turban  around  my 
brows.  We  duck  our  heads  involuntarily,  as  we  pass  through 
he  great  gates,  though  the  keystone  is  still  twenty  feet  above 
them. 

We  pass  the  Imambarra,  and  a  long  array  of  other  buildings 
and  at  last  halt  in  front  of  the  new  mosque,  which  the  King's 
mother  is  having  built.  It  is  large  and  picturesque,  but  shows 
a  decline  in  architecture.  The  minarets  are  much  too  high. 
They  have  fallen  down  twice,  and  one  of  them  is  going  to  fall 
again.  The  domes  are  troubled  with  the  same  weakness,  and, 
although  the  devout  old  lady  has  already  speut  $5,000,000  on 
the  mosque,  I  doubt  whether  she  will  ever  be  able  to  finish  it. 

Turning  back,  we  plunge  into  the  heart  of  the  city — \iiU 


A    SQUEEZE    OF    ELEPHANTS. 


227 


the  dart,  narrow,  crooked  old  streets  of  the  Lucknow  of  last 
century.     The  houses  are   three   stories  high,  projecting  3C 
that  the  eaves  almost  touch,  and  exhibit  the  greatest  variety 
in   their   design   and   ornament.      My  attention   is   divided 
between  looking  at  them,  and  watching  my  elephant.     Thf 
Btreet  is  so  narrow  and  crooked  that  we  run  some  risk  of 
crushing    our   howdahs    against   the   second-story   balconies, 
but  the  beast,  with  his  little,  keen,  calculating  eye,  knows 
precisely  how  far  to  go  without  striking.     We  pass  several 
elephants  safely,   and   are  getting   accustomed  to    the   nove] 
and    intricate  by-way,  when   up    comes   an  enormous  beast, 
ridden   by    a   human   elephant,  in  a  green  silk  robe.     The 
animal  looks  puzzled,  and  the  man  looks  sullen,  and  vouch- 
safes us  no  greeting.     He  is  a  Cadi's  secretary,  it  is  true, 
but   our    elephants,    being    royal,    take    precedence   of  his. 
Neither  beast  will  advance,  for  fear  of  wedging  themselves 
*,ogether.      At  last  my  driver  encourages  his  elephant;    he 
tells  him  to  press  close  against  the  wall  and  slip  past;  my 
howdah  shoots  under  a  balcony,  but  I  bend  profoundly  and 
escape  it.      We  press  through,   one   after  another,  and   the 
fat    gentleman    in    the   green    silk    gets    awfully    squeezed. 
Now   we    devote   our   attention   to   prying   into    the   second 
stories  of  the  houses,  but  the  windows  are  all  latticed,  and 
there  are  sparkles   through   the   lattices,  which  we  take  to 
be  the  flash  of  eyes. 

"  Here  is  the  gate  where  the  heads  of  malefactors  are 
exposed,"  says  one  of  my  companions,  and  I  look  up  with 
a  shuddering  expectancy,  thinking  to  see  a  bloody  head  spiked 
over  the  arch.  But  there  is  none  at  present,  and  we  pasa 
on  to  the   place   of  execution — a  muddy  bank  overhanging 


228  INDIA,    CHINA     AND    JAPAN. 

a  sewer,  filled  with  the  drainage  of  the  city.  Heie  th< 
heads  of  the  condemned  are  struck  off,  after  the  death- 
warrant  has  been  thrice  made  out  and  signed  by  the  king. 
This  is  a  custom  peculiar  to  Oude,  and  wisely  adopted  to 
prevent  the  ruler  from  shedding  blood  without  due  reflection 
The  first  and  second  orders  which  the  executioner  receives 
are  disregarded,  and  the  culprit  is  not  slain  until  the  com- 
mand is  repeated  for  the  third  time. 

We  return  through  the  Choke,  the  main  street  of  the  old 
city,  after  having  penetrated  for  two  miles  into  its  depths. 
There  is  a  crush  of  elephants,  but  the  street  has  a  tolerable 
breadth,  and  no  accidents  happen.  We  are  on  a  level  with 
the  second-story  balconies,  which  are  now  tenanted  (as  those 
in  the  Chandney  Choke  of  Delhi)  by  the  women  of  scarlet, 
arrayed  in  their  flaunting  finery.  We  see  now  and  then  an 
individual  of  another  class,  which  I  should  name  if  I  dared — 
but  there  are  some  aspects  of  human  nature,  which,  from  a 
regard  for  the  character  of  the  race,  are  tacitly  kept  secret.  But 
see !  we  have  again  emerged  into  the  broad  street  and  begin  to 
descend  the  slope  towards  the  river.  The  sun  is  setting,  and 
the  noises  of  the  great  city  are  subdued  for  the  moment.  The 
deep-green  gardens  lie  in  shadow,  but  all  around  us,  far  and 
near,  the  gilded  domes  are  blazing  in  the  yellow  glow.  The 
scene  is  lovely  as  the  outer  court  of  Paradise,  yet  what  decep- 
tion, what  crime,  what  unutterable  moral  degradation  festei 
aeneath  its  surfoxje ! 


CHAPTER    XVIIl. 

ALLAHABAD,     AND     A     HINDOO     FESTIVAL 

Uetnm  to  Cawnpore— An  Accident— The  Eoad  to  Allahabad— Sensib.e  Pllgrimfr- 
Morning— Beauty  of  Allahabad— The  American  Missionaries— The  Hindoo  Festiva 
—The  Banks  of  the  Ganges— Hindoo  Devotees— Expounding  the  Vedas— The  Plac« 
of  Hair— A  Pilgrim  Shorn  and  Fleeced— The  Place  of  Flags— Venality  of  the  Brah- 
mins—Story of  the  Contract  for  Grass— Junction  of  the  Ganges  and  Jumna— Bathing 
of  the  Pilgrims— A  Sermon— The  Mission— Subterranean  Temple— The  Fort  ol 
Allahabad. 

1  LEFT  Lucknow  at  nine  o'clock  on  the  evening  of  the  11th, 
in  the  garree  for  Cawnpore.  I  was  unable  to  sleep,  from 
toothache,  and  was  lying  with  shut  eyes,  longin  r  for  the 
dawn,  when  there  was  a  jar  that  gave  me  a  violent  thump  on 
the  head,  and  one  side  of  the  garree  was  heaved  into  the  air, 
but  after  a  pause  righted  itself  The  horse  started  off  at  full 
speed,  dragging  the  wreck  after  him,  but  was  soon  stopped, 
and  I  jumped  out,  to  find  the  spring  broken,  and  the  hind 
wheels  so  much  injured  that  we  were  obliged  to  leave  the 
vehicLi  in  the  road.  The  driver  had  no  doubt  fallen  asleep, 
and  the  horse,  going  at  his  usual  rapid  rate,  had  hurled  thf 
garree  against  a  tree.  Leaving  the  groom  to  take  charge  oi 
the  remains,  the  driver  took  the  mail-bag  on  his  head,  my  car 
pet-bag  in  his  hand,  aud  led  the  horse  toward  Cawnpore.     ) 


230  IlSroiA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

followed  him,  and  we  tiudged  silently  forwards  for  an  houi 
and  a  half,  when  we  reached  the  Ganges,  at  daybreak.  It  wa» 
lucky  that  the  accident  happened  so  near  the  end  of  the  journey 
The  same  afternoon  I  left  Cawnpore  for  Allahabad,  in  a 
garree,  as  usual.  Still  the  same  interminable  plains,  though 
the  landscape  became  richer  as  I  proceeded  southward,  except 
when  the  road  approached  the  Ganges,  where  there  are  fre 
quent  belts  of  sandy  soil,  worn  into  deep  gullies  by  the  rain. 
The  fields  of  barley  were  in  full  head,  the  mustard  in  blossom, 
and  the  flowers  of  the  mango-tree  were  beginning  to  open. 
The  afternoon  was  warm  and  the  road  very  dusty.  I  passed 
the  town  of  Futtehpore  at  dusk,  but  experienced  an  hour's 
delay  during  the  night,  which  I  was  at  a  loss  to  account  for 
until  I  found  the  next  morning  that  the  driver  had  taken  two 
natives  on  the  roof  of  the  garree,  as  passengers  to  Allahabad. 
They  were  pilgrims  to  the  Festival,  and  were  thus  depriving 
themselves  of  the  greatest  merit  of  the  pilgrimage,  which 
consists  in  making  the  journey  on  foot.  There  is  now  quite 
a  sharp  discussion  going  on  among  the  learned  pundits,  as  to 
whether  the  merit  of  a  religious  pilgrimage  will  be  destroyed 
by  the  introduction  of  railroads.  That  railroads  will  be  built 
in  the  course  of  time,  is  certain ;  that  thousands  of  pilgrims 
will  then  make  use  of  them,  is  equally  certain;  a  prospect 
which  fills  the  old  and  orthodox  Brahmins  with  great  alarm. 

I  passed  a  dreary  night,  martyred  by  the  toothache. 
When  the  sun  rose  I  saw  the  Ganges  in  the  distance,  and  the 
richness  and  beauty  of  the  scenery  betokened  my  approach  tc 
Allahabad.  The  plain  was  covered  with  a  deluge  of  the  richest 
grain,  fast  shooting  into  head,  and  dotted  with  magnificent 
groves  of  neem  and  mango  trees       The  road  was  throngoc' 


BEAUTY    OF    ALLAHRABAD. 


231 


vnth  pilgrims,  returning  from  the  Festival,  and  the  most  of 
them,  women  as  well  as  men,  carried  large  earthen  jars  of 
Ganges  water  suspended  to  the  ends  of  a  pole  which  rested  on 
their  shoulders.  In  spite  of  the  toils  of  the  journey  and  thr 
privations  they  must  have  undergone,  they  all  had  a  com- 
posed, contented  look,  as  if  the  great  object  of  their  lives  had 
been  accomplished. 

In  two  hours  I  reached  the  Allahabad  Cantonments,  but 
failing  to  find  the  residence  of  Mr.   Owen,  of  the  American 
Mission,  I  directed  the  driver  to  take  me  to  the  hotel.     On 
the  way  we  passed  through  the  native  town,  which  abounds  in 
temples  and   shrines.      Flags   were  flying  in   all   directions, 
drums  beating,  and  several  processions  could  be  discovered 
marching  over  the  broad  plain  which  intervenes  between  the 
town  and  the  fort.     The  day  was  gloriously  clear  and  bahny, 
and  the  foliage  of  the  superb  neem  and  tamarind  trees  that 
shade  the  streets,  sparkled  in  the  light.     I  remembered  the 
story  of  the  Mohammedan  Conquerors,  who  were  so  enchanted 
with  the  beauty  of  the  country,  and  so  well  satisfied  with  the 
mild  and  peaceable  demeanor  of  the  inhabitants,  who  gave  up 
the  place  without  striking  a  blow,  that  they  named  it  Allaha- 
bad—the City  of  God.     Its  original  name  was  Priag,  a  Hin- 
doo  word  signifying  « the  Junction,"  on  account  of  the  con- 
fluence of  the  Ganges  and  the  Jumna. 

The  first  face  I  saw  at  the  hotel  was  that  of  a  fellow- 
traveller  across  the  Desert,  whom  I  had  last  seen  at  Suea 
He  had  just  come  up  from  Calcutta,  on  his  way  to  Lahore. 
I  saw  but  little  of  him,  as  Mr.  Owen  insisted  on  my  taking  a 
room  at  his  house,  where  I  was  again  on  American  soil,  on  th« 
banks  of  the  Jumna.     I  have  rarely  passed  a  day  more  agree 


232  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

ftbly  than  in  his  pleasant  family  circle,  which  was  enlarged 
in  the  evening  by  the  presence  of  his  colleagues,  the  Rev 
Messrs.  Shaw  and  Hay.  The  American  Missionaries  in 
India,  wherever  I  have  met  them,  were  to  me  what  the  Latin 
monks  in  Palestine  were,  but  not  like  the  latter,  with  a  latent 
hope  of  reward.  They  are  all  earnest,  zealous  and  laborious 
men,  and  some  of  them,  among  whom  I  may  mention  Mr. 
Owen,  and  Mr.  Warren,  of  Agra,  are  ripe  scholars  in  the 
Oriental  languages  and  literature. 

Mr.  Owen  had  an  appointment  to  preach  to  the  natives  in 
the  afternoon,  and  I  accompanied  him  to  the  scene  of  the 
festival,  on  the  banks  of  the  Ganges.  The  climax  of  the  oc- 
casion was  past,  and  the  great  body  of  the  pilgrims  had  de 
parted  for  their  homes,  but  there  were  still  several  thousands 
encamped  in  and  around  the  town.  On  the  plain,  near  the 
Ganges,  stood  an  extempore  town,  consisting  of  streets  of 
booths,  kept  by  the  native  merchants,  who  took  care  of  tiieir 
temporal  and  spiritual  welfare  at  the  same  time,  with  a  dex- 
terity which  would  have  done  credit  to  a  Yankee.  Upon 
mounting  a  dyke  which  had  been  erected  to  restrain  the  water 
of  the  Ganges  during  inundations,  I  again  beheld  the  Holy 
River  and  its  sandy  and  desolate  shores.  It  was  indeed  a 
cheerless  prospect — a  turbid  flood  in  the  midst,  and  a  hot, 
dreary  glare  of  white  sand  on  either  side.  The  bank  of  the 
river,  from  the  point  where  we  stood  to  its  junction  with  the 
Jumna — a  distance  of  nearly  half  a  mile — was  covered  with 
Bhrines,  flags,  and  the  tents  of  the  fakeers,  which  consisted 
merely  of  a  cotton  cloth  thrown  over  a  piece  of  bamboo 
There  were  hundreds  of  so-called  holy  men,  naked  except  a  sin- 
gle cotton  rag,  and  with  their  bodies  covered  with  ashes  or  a 


HINDOO    DEVOTEES EXPOtnfDING    THE    VEDAS.  23S 

/ellow  powder,  which  gave  them  an  appearance  truly  hideous. 
Their  hair  was  long  and  matted,  and  there  was  a  wild  gleam 
m  their  eyes  which  satisfied  me  that  their  fanatical  character 
was  not  assumed.  Many  of  them  were  young  men,  with  keen 
spirited  faces,  but  the  same  token  of  incipient  monomania  in 
their  eyes.  Some  few  were  seated  on  the  ground,  or  in  the 
shade  of  their  rude  tents,  rapt  in  holy  abstraction,  but  the 
most  of  them  walked  about  in  a  listless  way,  displaying  theii 
disgusting  figures  to  the  multitude. 

The  shrines,  of  which  there  were  great  numbers,  were  taw- 
dry afi'airs  of  tinsel  a-nd  colored  paper,  with  coarse  figures  oi 
Mahadeo,  Ganeish,  Hanuman  and  other  deities.  Many  were 
adorned  with  flowers,  and  had  been  recently  refreshed  with  the 
water  of  the  Granges.  I  was  struck  with  the  figure  of  an  old 
grey-bearded  saint,  who  was  expounding  the  Vedas  to  a  Brah 
min,  who,  seated  cross-legged  under  a  large  umbrella,  read  sen 
tence  aft^r  sentence  of  the  sacred  writing.  The  old  felloT* 
showed  so  much  apparent  sincerity  and  satisfaction,  and  was  so 
fluent  in  his  explanations,  that  I  was  quite  delighted  with  him. 
Indeed,  there  was  not  the  slightest  approach  to  levity  manifest- 
ed by  any  one  present. 

We  threaded  the  crowd  of  ghastly  Jogees,  Gosains  and 
other  ashy  fakeers,  to  the  Place  of  Hair-Cutting — an  enclosed 
spot,  containing  about  an  acre  and  a  half  of  ground.  Here  the 
heads  and  beards  of  the  pilgrims  are  shorn,  a  million  of  years  in 
Paradise  being  given  by  the  gods  for  every  hair  so  offered  up 
The  ground  within  the  enclosure  was  carpeted  with  hair,  and 
I  am  told  that  on  great  occasions  it  is  literally  knee-deep 
There  were  only  two  persons  undergoing  the  operation,  and  ai 
I  wished  to  inspect  it  more  closely,  I  entered  the  enclosure, 


234  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

When  the  repugnance  which  the  Hindoos  have  toward  destroy 
ing  animal  life  is  understood,  the  reader  will  comprehend  thai 
I  did  not  venture  among  so  much  hair  without  some  hesitation. 
A  fellow  with  a  head  of  thick  black  locks  and  a  bushy  beard 
had  just  seated  himself  on  the  earth.  We  asked  nim  who  he 
was  and  whence  he  came.  He  was  a  Brahmin  from  Futtehporb, 
who  had  made  a  pilgrimage  from  Hurdwar,  where  he  had 
filled  a  vessel  with  Ganges  water,  which  he  was  now  taking  to 
pour  upon  the  shrine  of  Byznath,  beyond  Benares.  In  reward 
for  this  a  Brahmin  who  was  standing  near  assured  us  that  he 
would  be  born  a  Brahmin  the  next  time  that  his  soul  visited 
the  earth.  The  barber  took  hold  of  a  tuft  on  the  top  of  his 
head,  which  he  spared,  and  rapidly  peeled  off  flake  after  flake  of 
the  bushy  locks.  In  less  than  five  minutes  the  man's  head  and 
face  were  smooth  as  an  infant's,  and  he  was  booked  for  fifty 
thousand  million  years  in  Paradise.  But  the  change  thereby 
wrought  upon  his  countenance  was  most  remarkable.  Instead 
of  being  a  bold,  dashing,  handsome  fellow,  as  he  at  first  ap- 
peared, his  physiognomy  was  mean,  spiritless,  and  calculated 
to  inspire  distrust.  I  should  not  want  better  evidence  that 
Nature  gave  men  beards  to  be  worn,  and  not  to  be  shaven. 

As  soon  as  the  shearing  was  finished,  three  Brahmins  who 
had  been  hovering  around  carried  the  subject  off  to  be  fleeced 
They  were  sharp  fellows,  those  Brahmins,  and  I  warrant  they 
bled  him  to  the  last  pice.  The  Brahmins  of  Allahabad  are  not 
to  be  surpassed  for  their  dexterity  in  obtaining  perquisites. 
They  have  apportioned  India  into  districts,  and  adjoining  the 
Place  of  Hair  they  have  their  Place  of  Flags,  where  there 
are  upwards  of  two  hundred  flags  stit^iming  from  high  polea 
The  devices  on  these  flags  represent  the  different  districts 


STORY    OF    THE   CONTRACT    FOR    GRASS.  235 

The  pilgrim  seeks  the  flag  of  his  district,  and  there  he  finds 
the  Brahmin  licensed  to  take  charge  of  him.  There  is  no  fixed 
fee,  but  every  man  is  taxed  to  the  extent  of  his  purse.  One 
of  the  Rajahs  of  Oude,  who  had  been  shorn  a  short  time  pro- 
vious  to  my  arrival,  gave  the  fraternity  six  elephants  and  the 
weight  of  a  fat  infant  son  in  Cashmere  shawls  and  silver. 

In  justice   to  the  Brahmin    caste,  I  should  remark  that 
those  who  serve  as  priests  in  the  temples  are  not  to  be  con- 
founded with  the  secular  Brahmins,  many  of  whom  are  fine 
scholars,  and  enlightened  and  liberal-minded  men.     But  the 
priesthood  is  perhaps  more    corrupt   than    any  similar   class 
in  the  world.     They  do  not  even  make  a  pretence  of  hon- 
esty.    An  acquaintance  of  mine  bargained  with  some  Alla- 
habad Brahmins  to  supply  him  with  grass  for  thatching  his 
house.     They  showed  him  a  satisfactory  sample,  and  he  agreed 
to  pay  them  a  certain  price.     But  when  the  grass  came  it  was 
much  worse  than  the  sample,  and  he  refused  to  pay  them  fuU 
price.     The  matter  was  referred  for  arbitration  to  three  other 
Brahmins,  who  decided  in  the  gentleman's  favor.    But  the  con- 
tractors declared  they  would  have  the  full  price.    "  Why  do  you 
not  bring  me  good  grass,  then  ?  "  said  the  gentleman.  "  Because 
we  have  it  not,"  they  answered.     "  Why  then  did   you  send 
me  such  a  sample  ?  "     "  To  make  you  contract  with  us,"  was 
the  cool  reply.     "  You  may  take  the  quarrel  into  Court,  for  I 
shall  not  pay  you,"  declared  the  gentleman.    "  We  shall  not 
go  to  Court,  for  we  shall  certainly  lose  the  cause,"  said  they ; 
"but  we  vnll  have  the  money."     Thereupon  they  went  to  the 
carpenter  who  was  building  the  house,  and  who  was  a  Hindoo 
related  the  case,  and  called  upon  him  to  make  up  the  full  sum. 
The  astonished  victim  declared  that  it  was  no  affair  of  his.    **  N« 


236  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAFAK 

matter,"  said  they,  "  if  you  don't  pay  it,  one  of  us  will  commit 
suicide,  and  his  blood  will  be  upon  your  head" — this  being  ihi 
most  terrible  threat  which  can  be  used  against  a  Hindoo 
The  carpenter  still  held  out,  but  when  the  oldest  of  the  Brah 
mins  had  decided  to  kill  himself,  and  was  uncovering  his  bodj 
for  the  purpose,  the  victim  was  obliged  to  yield,  and  went  off  ir 
tears  to  borrow  the  money.  Truly,  this  thing  of  caste  is  the 
curse  of  India. 

Passing  the  Place  of  Flags,  where  the  streamers  were  of 
all  imaginable  colors  and  devices,  we  descended  to  the  holiest 
spot,  the  junction  of  the  Ganges  and  Jumna.  According  to  the 
Hindoos,  three  rivers  meet  here,  the  third  being  the  Seriswat- 
tee,  which  has  its  source  in  Paradise,  and  thence  flows  subterra- 
neously  to  the  Ganges.  There  were  a  number  of  bamboo  plat 
forms  extending  like  steps  to  the  point  where  the  muddy  waters 
of  the  Ganges  touched  the  clear  blue  tide  of  the  Jumna.  [In 
this  union  of  a  clear  and  a  muddy  stream,  forming  one  great 
river,  there  is  a  curious  resemblance  to  the  Mississippi  and  Mis- 
30uri,  and  to  the  Blue  and  White  Niles.]  Several  boats,  contain- 
ing flower-decked  shrines,  with  images  of  the  gods,  were  moored 
on  the  Jumna  side,  the  current  of  the  Ganges  being  exceedingly 
rapid.  The  natives  objected  to  our  getting  upon  the  platforms, 
as  they  were  kana,  or  purified,  and  our  touch  would  defile  them, 
so  we  stood  in  the  mud  for  a  short  time,  and  witnessed  the 
ceremony  of  bathing.  The  Hindoos  always  bathe  with  a  cloth 
around  the  loins,  out  of  respect  for  the  Goddess  Gungajee 
There  were  about  a  dozen  in  the  water,  bobbing  up  and  down, 
bowing  their  heads  to  the  four  points  of  the  oompass,  and  mut- 
tering invocations.  Others,  standing  upon  the  bank,  thre\i 
wreaths  of  yellow  flowers  upon  the  water.     On  our  return  to 


THE    AMERICAN    MISSION.  237 

the  encampment  of  the  fakeers,  we  visited  a  pit-shrine  of  Ha 
numan,  the  monkey  god,  who  helped  Rama  in  his  conquest  oi 
Ceylon.  He  lies  on  his  back  in  a  deep  hole,  and  is  a  hideoua 
monster,  about  twelve  feet  long,  carved  out  of  a  single  piftce  oi 
stone.  Several  natives  were  prostrating  themselves  in  the  dust, 
aronnd  the  mouth  of  the  pit. 

Mr.  Owen  preached  for  half  an  hour  in  the  mission  tent 
among  the  fakeers.  A  number  of  natives  flocked  around,  list- 
ening attentively,  and  made  no  disturbance,  though  two  or  three 
of  them  were  Jogees  of  the  most  fanatical  kind.  They  were 
apparently  interested,  but  not  touched.  Indeed,  so  deeply  root- 
ed are  these  people  in  their  superstitions,  that  to  awake  a  true 
devotional  feeling  among  them  must  be  a  matter  of  great  diffi- 
culty. In  the  evening  I  attended  Divine  service  in  the  Mission 
Church,  and  was  much  pleased  with  the  earnest  and  serious  air 
of  the  native  converts.  They  were  all  neatly  dressed  and  be- 
haved with  the  utmost  propriety.  The  Missionaries  have  in 
Btructed  four  natives,  who  were  ordained  as  ministers,  under 
the  names  of  Paul,  Thomas,  George  and  Jonas.  The  mission 
school  was  attended  by  three  hundred  pupils,  the  most  of  whom 
were  natives,  and  all  received  religious  instruction.  There  ig 
also  a  printing  office  under  the  charge  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Hay,  in 
which,  during  the  previous  year,  fix  millions  of  pages,  in  the 
Hindoo,  Urdoo,  and  Persian  languages  had  been  printed. 
The  Lieut.   Grovernor  of  the  Northwest,  during  his  visit  tc 

Allahabad,  spoke  in  public  in  the  highest  terms  of  the  labori 

•)f  the  American  Missionaries. 

On  my  way  to  the  fort  the  next  morning,  with  Mr.  Owen, 

we  met  one  of  the  Ameers  of  Scinde,  who  was  a  prisoner  at 

large  in  Hindostan.     In  the  fort  three  princes  of  Nepaul  were 


238  ODIA,    CHINA,   AKD    JAPAK. 

kept  in  very  strict  confinement,  on  account  of  having  been  en 
gaged  in  a  conspiracy.  The  most  remarkable  thing  in  the  fort 
is  a  subterranean  temple,  evidently  of  great  antiquity.  It 
consists  of  a  single  low  hall,  supported  by  square  pillars,  and 
contains  many  figures  of  Mahadeo  in  niches  around  the  walls 
and  a  quantity  of  lingams  scattered  over  the  floor.  There  is  a 
narrow  passage  issuing  from  it  which  has  not  been  explored. 
Some  of  the  Brahmins  say  it  leads  to  Benares,  and  others  to 
Hell.  In  the  centre  of  the  fort  stands  a  column  of  red  sand- 
stone, resembling  the  iron  pillar  at  Delhi,  and  with  an  inscrip- 
tion in  the  Pali  character.  The  arsenal,  which  occupies  part 
of  the  zenana  of  the  Emperor  Akbar,  is  the  largest  in  India. 
In  other  respects  the  fort  is  not  remarkable,  though,  having 
been  repaired  by  the  English,  it  is  in  better  condition  to  stand 
an  attack  than  the  immense  shells  which  tower  over  Agra  and 
Delhi 


CH APT  ER    XIX 

THE     HOLY     CITY     OF     IKDIA. 

r-rossingtheGange^PIlgrlmsEetuming  Home-Vagaries  of  the  Horses-Benares- 
Prof.  Hall-The  Holy  City-Its  8anctIty-The  Sanscrit  College-Navel  Plan  <« 
Education-Village  of  Native  Christian^The  Streets  of  Benares-Sacred  Bulls- 
Their  Sagacity  and  Cunning-The  Golden  Pagoda-Hindoo  Architectur^Worshlp 
of  the  Li'ngam-Temple  of  the  Indian  Ceres-The  Banks  of  the  Ganges-Bathing 
Devotees— Preps'^tions  for  Departure. 

At  noon,  on  Monday,  the  Uth,  I  left  tlie  hospitable  roof  of 

Mr.  Owen,  at  Allahabad.     On  reaching  the  Ganges,  I  found  the 

drawbridge  open,  and  a  string  of  upward  bound  vessels  passing 

through.     There  were  thirty-nine  in  all,  and  so  slowly  were  they 

towed  against  the  stream,  that  full  two  hours  elapsed,  and  I 

still  sat  there  in  the  heat,  contemplating  the  white  and  glaring 

sand-flats  of  the  opposite  shore.     There  was  an  end  of  it  at 

last;  my  garree  was  pushed  across,  and  over  the  sands,  by  a 

crowd  of  eager  coolies,  and  having  attained  the  hard,  mac- 

adamized  road,  shaded  by  umbrageous  peepul  and  neem  trees, 

I  whirled  away  rapidly  toward  Benares.     My  road  lay  along 

the  northern  bank  of  the  Ganges,  through  a  very  rich  and 

beautiful  country.     The  broad  fields  of  wheat  and  barley  just 

eoming  into  head,  were  picturesquely  broken  by  "topes  "of 


240  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

the  dark  mango  or  the  feathery  tamarind,  and  groves  of  th? 
brab  palm.  It  was  a  land  of  harvest  culture,  with  all  the 
grace  of  sylvan  adornment  which  distinguishes  a  park  of  plea- 
sure. 

The  road  was  thronged  with  pilgrims  returning  from  the 
great  mela,  or  fair,  of  Allahabad.  During  the  afternoon  I 
passed  many  thousands,  who  appeared  to  be  of  the  lowest  and 
poorest  castes  of  the  Hindoos.  They  all  carried  earthen  jars 
filled  with  the  sacred  water  of  the  Junction  (of  the  Ganges 
and  Jumna),  which  they  were  taking  to  pour  upon  the  shrines 
of  Benares  or  Byznath.  At  the  stations  where  I  changed 
horses,  they  crowded  around  the  garree,  begging  vociferously  * 
"  0  great  Being,  an  alms  for  Shiva's  sake  !  "  One  half-naked, 
dark-eyed  boy  of  ten  years,  accosted  me  in  fluent  Arabic,  ex- 
claiming :  "  0  great  lord,  may  Peace  repose  upon  your  turban  ! ' 
with  such  a  graceful  and  persuasive  air  that  he  did  not  need  to 
ask  twice.  But  for  the  others,  it  was  necessary  to  be  both  blind 
and  deaf,  for  there  was  no  charm  in  the  serpent-armed  Destroyer 
to  extort  what  had  been  given  in  the  sacred  name  of  Peace. 
As  night  approached,  the  crowds  thickened,  and  the  yells  of 
my  driver  opened  a  way  through  their  midst  for  the  rapid 
garree.  They  moved  in  a  cloud  of  dust,  of  their  own  raising, 
and  I  had  no  comfort  until  the  darkness  obliged  them  to  halt 
by  the  roadside  and  around  the  villages,  after  which  the  atmos- 
phere became  clearer,  and  the  road  was  tolerably  free  from 
obstruction. 

The  horses,  however,  gave  me  no  peace,  and  every  change, 
at  the  relay  stations,  seemed  to  be  for  the  worse.  After  balk- 
mg  at  the  start,  they  would  dash  off  in  fury,  making  the  body 
of  the  garree  swing  from  ?ide  to  side  at  every  bound,  till  a  crash 


VAGARiES   OF  THE  HORSES.  241 

of  some  kind  appeared  inevitable.  One  of  these  careers  was 
through  a  long  and  crowded  village,  in  which  a  market  was  be- 
ing held.  I  did  not  count  how  many  times  my  flying  wheels 
grazed  the  piles  of  earthenware,  and  the  heaps  of  grain  and 
vegetables,  but  I  know  that  there  were  screams  of  alarm,  ges- 
ticulations, fright  and  confusion,  from  one  end  of  the  village  to 
the  other,  and  how  we  ran  the  gauntlet  without  leaving  a  wake 
of  ruin  behind  us,  is  a  mystery  which  I  cannot  explain.  I 
gradually  became  too  weary  to  notice  these  aberrations  of  the 
propelling  force,  and  sinking  down  into  the  bottom  of  the  gar- 
ree,  fell  into  a  sleep  from  which  I  was  awakened  at  midnighl 
by  the  driver's  voice.  I  looked  out,  saw  a  large  Gothic  church 
before  me,  in  the  moonlight,  and  knew  by  that  token  that  iha 
goal  was  reached. 

The  next  morning  I  called  upon  my  countryman,  ^Lr.  Fitz- 
Edward  Hall,  to  whom  I  had  letters,  and,  according  to  Indiau 
custom,  immediately  received  the  freedom  of  his  bungalow. 
Mr.  Hall,  who  is  a  native  of  Troy,  New  York,  is  Professor  ol 
Sanscrit  in  the  Sanscrit  College  at  Benares,  and  enjoys  a  high 
and  deserved  rep'itation  throughout  India  for  his  attain ments, 
not  only  in  the  classic  language  of  the  Brahmins,  but  also  io 
the  Hindoo  and  Urdee  tongues.  With  his  assistance  I  was 
enabled  to  take  a  hasty  but  very  interesting  survey  of  Be* 
nares,  witnin  the  two  days  to  which  my  stay  was  limited. 

Benares,  the  Holy  City  of  the  Hindoos,  and  one  of  the  most 
ancient  in  India,  lies  upon  the  northern  bank  of  the  Ganges, 
at  the  point  where  it  receives  the  waters  of  the  two  small  trib- 
utaries, the  Burna  and  Arsee,  from  whose  united  names  is  de* 
rived  that  of  the  town.  All  junctions  of  other  rivers  with 
the  Ganges  are  sacred,  but  that  of  the  Juuina  and  the  invisible 

n 


242  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

Seriawattee  at  Allahabad,  surpasses  all  others  in  holinesa 
Nevertheless,  Benares,  from  having  been  the  spot  where  Mabju 
deo  (if  1  am  not  mistaken),  made  his  last  avatar^  or  incarnate 
appearance  on  the  earth,  is  so  peculiarly  sanctified  that  all  per- 
sons who  live  within  a  circuit  of  five  miles — even  the  abhorred 
Mussulman  and  the  beef-eating  English — go  to  Paradise, 
whether  they  wish  it  or  no.  According  to  the  gospel  of  the 
Brahmins,  the  city  and  that  portion  of  territory  included  with- 
in the  aforesaid  radius  of  five  miies,  is  not,  like  all  the  rest  of  the 
earth's  bulk,  balanced  upon  the  back  of  the  great  Tortoise,  but  up 
held  upon  the  points  of  Shiva's  trident.  In  this  belief  they  boldly 
affirmed  that  though  all  other  parts  of  the  world  might  be 
shaken  to  pieces,  no  earthquake  could  affect  the  stability  of 
Benares — until  1828,  when  without  the  least  warning  towers 
and  temples  were  thrown  down,  hundreds  of  persons  buried  in  the 
wreck,  and  half  built  quays  and  palaces  so  split  and  sunken, 
that  the  boastful  builders  left  off  their  work,  which  stands  at 
this  day  in  the  same  hideous  state  of  ruin.  This  mundane 
city,  however  (they  say),  is  but  a  faint  shadow,  a  dim  reflection 
of  the  real  Benares,  which  is  built  upon  a  plain  half-way  be- 
tween Earth  and  Heaven. 

The  English  cantonments  encircle  the  old  Hindoo  city. 
Owing  to  the  deep,  dry  beds  of  the  small  rivers,  scarring  the 
rather  arid  level  which  it  covers,  the  settlement  has  not  the 
home-like,  pleasing  features  of  others  in  Hindostan.  There  are 
a  few  handsome  private  mansions,  a  spacious  church,  and  the 
new  Sanscrit  College,  which  is  considered  the  finest  modern 
edifice  in  India.  To  those  who  are  familiar  with  the  East  In. 
dia  Company's  efforts  in  this  line,  such  an  opinion  will  nol 
raise  very  high  expectations.     The  College  is  o  Grothic  cross — 


THE    SANSCRIT    COLLEGE,  243 

A  reminiscence  of  Oxford,  and  beautiful  as  it  is  in  many  re 
Bpects,  we  should  prefer  something  else,  to  project  against  a 
background  of  palms  and  tamarinds.  It  is  built  of  the  soft  rose 
colored  sandstone  of  Chenar,  and  the  delicate  beauty  of  its  but- 
treeses  and  pinnacles,  wrought  in  this  material,  make  us  regret 
that  the  architect  had  not  availed  himself  of  the  rich  stores  of 
Saracenic  art,  which  the  mosques  and  tombs  of  the  Mogul  Em- 
perors aiford  him.  Gothic  architecture  does  not,  and  never  can 
be  made  to  harmonize  with  the  forms  of  a  tropical  landscape. 

The  plan  of  this  College  is  unique  and  has  of  late  been  the 
subject  of  much  criticism.  It  was  established  by  the  East  India 
Company  sixty-three  years  ago,  for  the  purpose  of  instructing  the 
children  of  Brahmins  in  the  Sanscrit  Philosophy  and  Litera- 
ture, and  since  the  construction  of  the  new  building,  the  Eng- 
lish College  has  been  incorporated  with  it.  The  Principal, 
Dr.  Ballantyne,  who  is  probably  the  profoundest  Sanscrit 
scholar  living,  has  taken  advantage  of  this  junction  to  set  od 
foot  an  experiment,  which,  if  successful,  will  produce  an  entire 
revolution  in  the  philosophy  of  the  Brahmins.  The  native  scholars 
in  the  English  College  are  made  acquainted  with  the  inductive 
philosophy  of  Bacon,  while  the  students  of  Sanscrit  take  as  a 
text-book  the  Nyaya  system,  as  it  is  called,  of  Guatama,  the 
celebrated  Hindoo  philosopher.  There  are  many  points  of  ap- 
proach in  these  two  systems,  and  Dr.  Ballantyne  has  been  led 
to  combine  them  in  such  a  way  as  finally  to  place  the  student, 
who  commences  with  the  refined  speculations  of  Guatama,  up 
on  the  broad  and  firm  basis  of  the  Baconian  system.  The  lat> 
ter  is  thus  prepared  to  receive  the  truths  of  the  physical  sci 
ences,  a  knowledge  of  which  must  gradually,  but  inevitably 
overthrow  the  gorgeous  enormities  of  his  religious  faith. 


244  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN 

After  visiting  Mr.  Reid,  the  Commissioner  of  the  District 

Mr.  Hall  accompanied  me  to  the  Mission  establishment  of  the 
English  Church.  Here  there  is  a  small  village  of  native 
Christians,  whom  I  could  not  but  compassionate.  Cut  off  foi 
ever  from  intercourse  with  their  friends,  denounced  as  un 
clean  and  accursed,  they  showed  their  isolation  by  a  quiet,  pa 
tient  demeanor,  as  if  they  passively  sustained  their  new  faith^ 
instead  of  actively  rejoicing  in  it.  There  was,  however,  a  visi- 
ble improvement  in  their  households — greater  cleanliness  and 
order,  and  the  faces  of  the  women,  I  could  not  but  notice, 
showed  that  the  teachings  of  the  missionaries  had  not  been 
lost  upon  them.  I  wish  I  could  have  more  faith  in  the  sin- 
cerity of  these  converts ;  but  the  fact  that  there  is  a  material 
gain,  no  matter  how  slight,  in  becoming  Christian,  throws  a 
doubt  upon  the  verity  of  their  spiritual  regeneration.  If  lack 
ing  employment,  they  are  put  in  the  way  of  obtaining  it ;  if 
destitute,  their  wants  are  relieved;  and  when  gathered  into 
communities,  as  here,  they  are  furnished  with  dwellings  rent- 
free.  While  I  cheerfully  testify  to  the  zeal  and  faithfulness 
of  those  who  labor  in  the  cause,  I  must  confess  that  I  have 
•not  yet  witnessed  any  results  which  satisfy  me  that  the  vast 
expenditure  of  money,  talent  and  life  in  missionary  enterpri- 
ses, has  been  adequately  repaid. 

I  spent  a  day  in  the  streets  and  temples  of  Benares.  As  a 
city  it  presents  a  more  picturesque  and  impressive  whole  than 
either  Delhi  or  Lucknow,  though  it  has  no  such  traces  of  ar 
chitectural  splendor  as  those  cities.  The  streets  are  narrow  and 
crooked,  but  paved  with  large  slabs  of  sandstone ;  the  houses 
aie  lofty  substantial  structures  of  wood,  with  projecting  sto- 
ties,  and  at  every  turn  Ihe  eye  rests  upon  the  gilded  conicaJ 


THE    SACRED    BULLS    OF    BENARES.  245 

domes  of  a  Hindoo  temple  or  the  tall  minaret  of  a  Mchamme 
dan  mosque.  It  is  a  wilderness  of  fantastic  buildings,  in  which 
you  are  constantly  surprised  by  new  and  striking  combinationg 
and  picturesque  effects  of  light  and  shade.  I  should  have  been 
content  to  wander  about  at  random  in  the  labyrinth,  but  my 
companion  insisted  on  going  at  once  to  the  Golden  Pagoda,  or 
great  temple  of  Mahadeo,  and  thither  we  accordingly  went. 

The  narrow  streets  were  obstructed,  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
temple,  with  numbers  of  the  sacred  bulls.  Benares  swarma 
with  these  animals,  which  are  as  great  a  nuisance  to  the  place 
as  the  mendicant  friars  are  to  Rome.  They  are  knowing  bulls, 
perfectly  conscious  of  their  sacred  character,  and  presume  up- 
on it  to  commit  all  sorts  of  depredations.  They  are  the  terror 
of  the  dealers  in  fruits  and  vegetables,  for,  although  not  al- 
ways exempted  from  blows,  no  one  can  stand  before  their  horns 
— and  these  they  do  not  scruple  to  use,  if  necessary  to  secure 
their  ends.  Sometimes,  on  their  foraging  expeditions,  they 
boldly  enter  the  houses,  march  up  stairs  and  take  a  stroll  on 
the  flat  roofs,  where  they  may  be  seen,  looking  down  with  a 
quiet  interest  on  the  passing  crowds  below.  From  these  emi- 
nences they  take  a  survey  of  the  surrounding  country,  calcu- 
late its  resources,  and  having  selected  one  of  the  richest  spots 
«7ithin  their  circles  of  vision,  descend  straightway,  and  set  ofl 
on  a  bee  line  for  the  place,  which  they  never  fail  to  find. 
When  the  fields  look  promising  on  the  other  side  of  the  Gan- 
ges, they  march  down  to  the  river  banks,  and  prevent  any 
passenger  from  going  on  board  the  ferry-boats  until  they  are 
permitted  to  enter.  They  cross  and  remain  there  until  the 
supplies  are  exhausted,  when  they  force  a  passage  back  in  the 
game  manner.    The  gardens  of  the  Eufrlish  residents  frequentlj 


846  IKDIA,    CHINA,    AUTD    JAPAN. 

Buffer  from  their  depredations,  and  the  only  effectual  way  ol 
guarding  against  them  is  to  yoke  them  at  once,  and  to  kee| 
them  at  hard  labor  for  a  day  or  two,  which  so  utterly  disgusta 
them  with  the  place  that  they  never  return  to  it.  It  is  also 
affirmed  that  they  carefully  avoid  the  neighborhood  of  those 
butchers  who  supply  the  tables  of  the  English,  having  observed 
that  some  of  their  brethren  disappeared  in  a  mysterious  man- 
ner, after  frequenting  such  localities. 

We  were  fortunate  in  our  visit  to  the  Golden  Pagoda,  for 
it  was  one  of  the  god's  festival  days,  and  the  court  and  shrines 
of  the  temple  were  thronged  with  crowds  of  worshippers.  The 
most  of  them  brought  wreaths  of  flowers  and  brass  vessels  of 
Granges  water,  to  pour  upon  the  symbols  of  the  divinity.  The 
Pagoda  is  built  of  red  sandstone,  which  seems  to  have  grown 
darker  and  richer  by  age,  and  by  contrast  with  the  blazing 
gold  of  its  elaborate  spires,  has  a  wonderfully  gorgeous  appear- 
ance. The  style  of  architecture  is  essentially  the  same  in  all 
Hindoo  temples.  The  body  of  the  structure  is  square  and 
massive,  enclosing  the  shrine  of  the  god.  From  a  cornice  of 
great  breadth,  and  often  covered  with  sculptured  ornaments, 
rises  a  tall  spire,  of  parabolic  outlines,  which  has  the  look  of 
being  formed  by  an  accretion  of  smaller  spires  of  similar  form. 
[t  has  a  general  resemblance  to  a  pine-apple  or  rugged  pine- 
cone.  Where  the  temple  is  enclosed  within  a  court,  as  in  this 
instance,  there  are  usually  a  number  of  separate  shrines,  and 
the  clusters  of  spires  and  small  ornamental  pinnacles,  entirely 
covered  with  gilding,  form  a  picture  of  barbaric  pomp  not  un- 
«Forthy  the  reputed  wealth  "  of  Ormuz  or  of  Ind  "  The 
alirines  stood  within  dusky  recesses  or  sanctuaries,  lighted  bj 
lamps  filled   with    cocoa-nut    oil.     They  were   in   charge    of 


WOESfflP   OF    THE   LINGAM.  247 

priests  or  neophytes,  who  offered  us  wreaths  of  jasmine-blossoms, 
fragrant,  and  moist  with  Ganges  water.  I  was  about  to  ac- 
cept some  of  them,  but  Mr.  Hall  requested  me  not  to  do  so,  as 
the  act  was  one  of  worship,  and  would  be  looked  upon  aa 
showing  respect  to  Mahadeo. 

The  body  of  the  temple  abounded  with  stone  images  of  the 
lingam,  on  all  of  which  lay  wreaths  of  flowers,  while  the  wor 
shippers,  male  and  female,  poured  over  them  the  water  of  the 
sacred  river.  The  worship  was  performed  quietly  and  decently, 
with  every  outward  appearance  of  respect,  and  there  was 
nothing  in  the  symbols  themselves,  or  the  ceremonies,  to  give 
foundation  to  the  charges  which  have  been  made,  of  the  ob- 
scenity or  immorality  of  this  feature  of  the  Hindoo  faith. 
The  lingam  is  typical  of  the  creative  principle,  and  by  nc 
means  to  be  confounded  with  the  Priapus  of  the  Greeks ;  it 
rather  points  to  the  earlier  phallic  worship  of  the  Egyptians, 
with  which  it  was  no  doubt  coeval.  There  is  a  profound  philo- 
sophical truth  hidden  under  the  singular  forms  of  this  worship, 
if  men  would  divest  themselves  for  a  moment  of  a  prudery  with 
regard  to  such  subjects,  which  seems  to  be  the  affectation  of  the 
present  age.  So  far  from  the  Hindoos  being  a  licentious  peo- 
ple, they  are  far  less  so  than  the  Chinese  on  one  hand  or  the 
Mussulmen  on  the  other,  and  from  what  I  can  learn,  they  are 
quite  as  moral  as  any  race  to  which  the  tropical  sun  has  given 
an  ardent  temperament  and  a  brilliant  vitality  of  physical  life. 

I  also  visited  the  temple  of  Unna-Purna— one  of  the 
names  of  the  Goddess  Bhavani,  the  Indian  Ceres.  It  stands 
on  a  platform  of  masonry,  surrounded  by  a  range  of  smallei 
shrines.  Hundreds  of  worshippers — ^mostly  peasants  from  the 
surrounding  country,  were  marching  with  a  quick  step  aroune 


248  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

the  temple,  with  their  offerings  in  their  hands.  The  shrine  oi 
the  Goddess  was  so  crowded  that  I  had  some  difficulty  in  ob 
taining  a  view  of  her  dusky  figure.  The  gay,  cheerful  aspect  of 
the  votaries,  with  their  garlands  of  flowers  and  brazen  urns 
of  water,  recalled  to  my  mind  the  Eleusinian  Festivals  oi 
Greece,  and  the  words  of  Schiller's  Hymn  flashed  into  my 
memory : 

"  Windet  zum  Kranze  die  goldenen  .^Ehren  1  ** 

We  afterwards  went  down  to  the  Ganges,  and  wandered 
along,  past  shattered  palaces,  sunken  quays,  temples  thrown 
prostrate,  or  leaning  more  threateningly  than  the  belfry  of  Pisa., 
through  a  wilderness  of  fantastic  and  magnificent  forms, 
watching  the  crowds  bathing  in  the  reeking  tanks,  or  the  open 
waters  of  the  river.  Broad  stone  ghauts  (flights  of  steps) 
covered  the  bank,  rising  from  the  river  to  the  bases  of  stately 
buildings,  fifty  or  sixty  feet  above.  The  Ganges  here  makes  a 
broad  bend  to  the  northward,  and  from  these  ghauts,  near  the 
centre,  we  saw  on  either  hand  the  horns  of  the  crescent-shaped 
city,  with  their  sweeps  of  temples,  towers  and  minarets  glit- 
tering in  the  sun.  A  crowd  of  budgerows,  or  river  boats, 
were  moored  all  along  the  bank,  or  slowly  moved,  with  white 
sails  spread,  against  the  current.  The  bathers  observed  the 
same  ceremonies  as  I  had  noticed  at  Allahabad,  and  were  quite 
decorous  in  their  movements,  the  men  retaining  the  dhotee,  or 
cotton  cloth  twisted  about  the  loins.  The  Hindoos  are  great- 
ly shocked  by  the  English  soldiers,  who  go  naked  to  the  em- 
braces of  the  Goddess  Gunga, — not  from  that  circumstance  as 
eonnected  with  bathing,  but  as  a  want  of  respect  to  the  hol^ 
i^eam      I  finished  my  visit  to  the  city,  by  taking  a  boat  and 


PREPARATIONS   FOB  DEPARTURE.  249 

dowly  floating  down  the  Ganges  in  front  of  it,  until  its  con- 
fused array  of  palaces,  and  ghauts,  and  golden  spires  was  in* 
delibly  daguerrotyped  upon  my  memory. 

The  necessity  of  reaching  Calcutta  in  time  for  the  Hong 
Kong  steamer  of  the  last  of  February,  obliged  me  to  refuse 
an  invitation  to  a  week's  tiger-hunting  in  the  jungles  of  the 
Vindhya  Hills — a  prospect  which  I  did  not  relinquish  without 
some  bitter  regrets.  I  thereupon  made  preparations  for  m) 
last  "  garree-dawk  "  of  430  miles,  with  a  pleasant  prospect  oi 
a  bruised  head  or  broken  bones,  for  after  so  many  narrow  es- 
capes, I  decided  that  I  either  bore  a  charmed  life,  or  my  snai* 
of  injury  was  near  at  hand. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THE  BOAD  FROM  BENARES  TO  CALCUTTA 

Itoonllght  on  the  Ganges— The  Unholy  Eiver— Scenery  of  the  Plains— Egyptian 
Landscapes — Sasseram — Mountains  near  the  Soane  River— View  of  the  Ford- 
Crosslng— The  Second  Day's  Journey— The  Hills  of  Behar— Meeting  with  an  Ac- 
quaintance— "Wild  Table-Land — Sunset— A  Coolie  Trick— The  Aborigines  of  India- 
Triumph  of  the  Eed-haired  Lady— Horse  Gymnastics— The  Lady  Defeated— Mun- 
glepore— An  Eccentric  Niglit-Jonrney— The  City  of  Burdwan— Tropical  Scenery- 
Wrecked  on  the  Road- A  Wrathful  Delay— "Wrecked  again— Journey  by  Moonlighl 
—Another  Wreck— An  Insane  Horse— The  Hoogly  River— Yet  Another  Accident— 
A  Morning  Parade — The  End  of  "  Garree-Dawk." 

It  was  nearly  midniglit,  on  the  16tli  of  February,  wten  I 
left  a  genial  company  of  Benares  residents,  and  started  on  my 
lonely  journey  to  Calcutta.  My  conductor  did  not  pass  through 
the  city,  but  drove  around  it  to  Raj  Ghaut,  five  miles  distant. 
The  horse  was  unharnessed,  the  carriage  dragged  down  the 
bank  by  coolies,  and  deposited  on  a  ferry-boat.  I  stretched 
myself  comfortably  on  the  mattress,  propped  against  a  carpet- 
bag, and  looked  out  on  the  beautiful  moonlit  river.  No  spice- 
lamps,  set  afloat  by  amorous  Hindoo  maidens,  starred  the  sil- 
very smoothness  of  the  tide.  Alas,  I  fear  that  the  poetry  of 
the  Indian  world  is  in  a  rapid  decline      There  was  no  sound 


THE    UNHOLY    RIVER.  25 1 

daring  our  passage  but  the  light  dip  of  oars,  and  the  shores^ 
faintly  touched  by  the  rays  of  the  setting  moon,  were  wrapped 
in  the  hush  of  slumber.  Thus,  with  a  solemn,  scarcelj  percep- 
tible motion,  I  was  ferried  across  the  sacred  river. 

A  plank  road  led  over  the  sandy  flats  on  the  opposite  side, 
and  my  horse  required  the  assistance  of  half  a  dozen  coolies, 
to  reach  the  level  of  the  cultivated  land.  We  rolled  on  at  a 
lively  pace  through  the  night,  and  the  rising  sun  found  me  at 
Durgowtee,  thirty-six  miles  from  Benares..  Here  a  handsome 
Buspension  bridge  crosses  the  river  Karamnasa,  the  waters  of 
which  are  so  unholy  as  to  destroy  the  whole  merit  of  a  jour- 
ney to  Benares,  should  they  touch  the  pilgrim's  feet.  The 
bridge  was  built  by  a  late  Rajah  of  Benares,  to  prevent  the 
thousands  of  pilgrims  who  pass  along  this  road,  from  forfeiting 
the  reward  of  their  devotion.  Notwithstanding  this  act  of 
pious  charity,  the  Bajah  was  so  unpopular  among  his  people^ 
that  they  considered  it  very  unlucky  to  mention  his  name  be- 
fore breakfast.  The  country  was  still  a  dead  level,  and  though 
dry  at  this  season,  is  marshy  during  the  rains.  The  last  season 
had  injured  the  road  greatly,  so  that  for  a  distance  of  twenty 
or  thirty  miles,  but  little  of  it  was  passable.  A  rough  tempo- 
rary track  had  been  made  beside  it,  and  hundreds  of  workmen 
were  employed  in  constructing  bridges  over  the  nullas,  and  re- 
pairing the  embankments.  The  country,  at  first  almost  bare 
of  trees,  and  covered  with  but  moderate  crops,  gradually  be- 
came warmer  and  richer  in  its  aspect.  The  vegetation  increas- 
ed in  luxuriance,  and  the  profusion  of  the  brab  palm  spoke  of 
the  neighborhood  of  the  tropics.  The  villages  were  s-haded 
with  huge  banyans,  peepuls  and  other  umbrageous  trees.  The 
Yindhya  Mountains  appeared  blue  and  distant  in  the  south- 


ZSZ  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND   JAPAN. 

west,  and  a  nearer  range  in  front  marked  my  approach  to  th< 
Soane  River. 

The  landscapes  reminded  me  more  of  Egypt  i.han  any  othef 
part  of  India.  There  was  the  same  summer  richness  in  the 
foliage  of  the  trees,  the  same  vivid  green  in  the  broad  fields  oi 
wheat  and  barley,  then  fast  ripening,  and  the  same  luxury  of 
color  in  the  patches  of  blossoming  poppy.  But  the  air,  instead 
of  the  crystalline  purity  of  the  Egyptian  atmosphere,  waa 
steeped  in  a  glowing  blue  vapor — softened  by  a  filmy  veil  of 
languor  and  repose.  The  sun  poured  down  a  summer  glow, 
though  a  light  breeze  now  and  then  ran  over  the  fields,  and 
rolled  along  the  road  in  clouds  of  whirling  dust.  Notwith- 
standing my  lazy  enjoyment  of  the  scenery,  I  found  my  appe 
tite  gradually  becoming  sharper,  and  was  not  sorry  to  reach 
the  large  town  of  Sasseram,  where  I  halted  at  the  bungalow 
long  enough  to  procure  an  afternoon  breakfast  Resuming  my 
journey,  I  reached  the  banks  of  the  Soane  River  about  five 
o'clock.  The  mountains  on  the  left,  which  fellow  its  course, 
cease  at  the  distance  of  some  miles  from  the  road,  whence  they 
have  the  appearance  of  a  long  blufi"  promontory,  projecting  into 
the  sea.  In  advance  of  the  last  headland  rises  an  isolated 
peak  with  a  forked  top,  precisely  as  I  have  seen  a  craggy  island 
standing  alone,  off  the  point  of  a  cape.  There  is  no  doubt 
that  Central  and  Southern  India  at  one  time  constituted  an 
immense  island,  separated  from  the  main  land  of  Asia  by  a 
sea  whose  retrocession  gave  to  the  light  the  great  pbins  oi 
Hindostan  and  the  Indus. 

The  Soane  is  believed  to  be  the  Erranoboas  of  the  old 
Greek  geographers,  and  at  his  junction  with  the  Ganges  they 
located  the  great  city  of  Palibothra.     He  has  a  royal  bed  iv 


CBOSSINO    THE   80ANE   BIVEB.  253 

^Lich  to  roll  his  waters,  which  were  then  shmnken  to  a  shal- 
low flood  by  the  dry  season.  Standing  on  the  western  bank,  the 
channel  stretched  away  before  me  to  a  breadth  of  nearly  four 
miles — a  waste  of  bare  yellow  sand,  threaded  by  the  blue  arnna 
of  the  river.  Here  and  there  companies  of  men  and  oxen 
dotted  its  surface,  and  showed  the  line  of  the  ford.  The  tents 
of  those  who  were  waiting  to  cross  on  the  morrow  were 
pitched  on  the  bank,  and  the  gleam  of  fires  kindled  near  them 
shone  out  ruddily  as  the  sun  went  down.  It  was  a  grand  and 
impressive  scene,  notwithstanding  its  sombre  and  monotonous 
hues.  Such,  I  imagine,  must  be  the  fords  of  our  own  Nebras- 
ka, during  the  season  of  emigration.  I  paid  an  official  of 
some  kind  two  rupees,  after  which  my  horse  was  unharnessed, 
and  three  yoke  of  oxen  attached  to  the  garree.  Descending 
to  the  river  bank  a  short  distance  above,  the  garree  was  put 
upon  a  ferry-boat,  to  be  taken  across  the  deepest  part,  while 
the  bullocks  were  driven  through  to  await  us  on  the  other  side. 
The  main  stream  is  about  half  a  mile  wide,  and  beyond  it  lie 
alternate  beds  of  sand,  and  small,  fordable  arms  of  the  river 
We  moved  at  a  snail's  pace,  on  account  of  the  depth  of  the 
sand.  While  in  the  midst  of  one  of  the  deepest  channels, 
the  water  reaching  to  the  body  of  the  garree,  one  of  the  oxen 
twisted  his  head  out  of  the  yoke  and  darted  off.  There  was 
great  plunging  and  splashing  on  the  part  of  the  natives  for  a 
few  minutes,  but  they  succeeded  in  recovering  him,  and  at 
length,  after  a  passage  of  more  than  two  hours,  we  attained 
firm  earth  on  the  opposite  side. 

In  spite  of  the  lovely  moonlight,  I  shut  up  the  garree,  and 
courted,  slumber.  I  passed  a  tolerable  night,  and  at  daybreak 
reached  Shergotty,  one  hundred  and    thirty  miles  from  Be 


254  INDIA,  CHINA,  AND  JAPAN. 

nares.  The  country,  for  ten  miles  after  leaving  that  town^ 
was  level  and  gloriously  rich.  The  wheat  and  barley  w?re 
taking  on  their  golden  harvest  hue,  and  the  plantations  of 
poppy  sparkled  in  the  sun  like  sheets  of  freshly-fallen  snow. 
The  villages  were  frequent,  thickly  settled,  and  had  a  flour- 
ishing air.  The  road  still  swarmed  with  Hindoo  pilgrims, 
returning  from  Benares  and  Allahabad,  almost  every  one 
carrying  his  two  jars  of  Ganges  water.  At  the  stations  I 
was  assailed  by  clamorous  beggars  of  all  ages  and  sexes. 
The  troops  of  coolies  on  the  road  were  also  annoying,  by 
laying  hold  of  the  garree  at  the  difficult  places,  running  with 
it  half  a  mile,  and  then  demanding  backsheesh.  They  made 
a  ridiculous  feint  of  pushing  with  all  their  strength,  although 
I  could  see  that  there  was  not  the  least  strain  on  their 
muscles,  and  constantly  cried  out,  with  much  energy. 
"  Push  away  there  —  a  great  lord  is  inside  !  '* 

I  was  now  in  the  hilly  province  of  Behar,  where  the  coun- 
try becomes  more  undulating,  and  the  cultivation  more  scanty. 
A  chain  of  mountains  which  had  been  visible  for  some  time  in 
front,  began  to  enclose  me  in  their  jungly  depths.  The  road 
still  continued  good,  the  ascents  being  gradual,  and  the  nullag 
crossed  by  substantial  bridges.  The  hills  were  covered  with 
jungle  to  their  very  summits,  and  the  country  on  either  hand, 
as  far  as  I  could  see,  was  uncultivated.  The  people  had  a 
wild,  squalid  look,  and  showed  evidence  of  different  blood  from 
the  race  of  the  plains.  I  halted  in  the  afternoon  at  the  bun- 
galow of  Dunwah  for  my  single  daily  meal,  and  while  waiting 
for  it,  a  garree  drawn  entirely  by  coolies  came  up  the  road 
from  the  Calcutta  side.  The  traveller,  it  seemed,  had  inten- 
tions similar  to  mine,  for  his  coolies  brought  him  to  the  buU' 


THE  TABLE-LAND  OF  BEHAR.  255 

^low,  and  I  soon  heard  his  voice  in  the  next  room^  ordering 
tea  and  "  moorghee  grill "  (broiled  chicken).  When  I  waa 
employed  on  my  own  meal,  he  came  in  to  see  who  I  was,  and 
we  were  both  surprised  to  find  that  we  had  been  fellow-passen 
gers  on  board  the  Haddington,  and  had  parted  company  at 
Suez,  more  than  two  months  before. 

Leaving  Dunwah,  I  had  two  chokees  of  gradual  ascent, 
among  hills  covered  with  jungle,  and  then  reached,  as  I 
thought,  the  dividing  ridge,  and  anticipated  a  corresponding 
descent;  in  place  whereof,  a  level  table-land,  dotted  with  de- 
tached mountain  groups,  opened  before  me  as  far  as  the  eye 
could  reach.  Though  thinly  inhabited,  the  soil  appeared  to  be 
fertile,  and  the  air  was  purer  thai?  on  the  plains  of  the  Ganges. 
It  was  a  wild,  romantic  region,  and  gave  me  the  idea  of  a 
country  just  beginning  to  be  reclaimed  from  a  state  of  nature. 
One  would  scarcely  expect  to  find  hundreds  of  miles  of  such 
land,  coexistent  with  the  dense  population  of  other  parts  of 
India.  Yet,  during  my  travels,  I  saw  a  vast  deal  of  waste 
and  uncultivated  territory.  Were  all  its  resources  developed, 
the  country  would  support  at  least  double  its  present  popula- 
tion. 

The  sunset  was  beautiful  among  those  woody  ranges,  and 
the  full  moonlight  melted  into  it  so  gently  that  it  seemed  to 
arrest  and  retain  the  mellow  lustre  and  soothing  influences  of 
twilight  At  a  chokoe  which  I  reached  soon  after  dusk,  the 
neople  represented  to  me  that  the  road  beyond  was  mountain 
JUS,  and  that  two  coolies  would  be  necessary,  in  addition  tc 
the  horse.  "  Well,"  said  I,  "  let  two  of  you  come."  I  wait- 
ed  in  vain  for  the  hills,  however,  for  we  went  forward  at  a  full 
gallop,  the  whole  distance.     Looking  behind  to  see  whethey 


256  INDIA,    CHINA,   AHD   JAPAN. 

this  increase  of  speed  was  occasioned  by  the  coolies,  I  discorei 
ed  those  two  gentlemen  comfortably  seated  on  the  rumble,  witl 
their  legs  dangling  in  the  air,  while  every  few  minutes  thej 
uttered  cries  of  such  energy,  that  one  would  have  supposed 
they  were  straining  every  nerve  with  the  violence  of  their  ef 
forts.  When  we  reached  the  station,  they  came  up  boldly  and 
demanded  their  pay,  whereupon  I  retorted  by  asking  pay  of 
them  for  their  conveyance.  They  slunk  away,  quite  chop-fall- 
en at  my  discovery  of  their  trickery. 

At  dawn  the  next  morning,  I  reached  a  town  called  Topee- 
chanchee.  Beyond  this  point  the  mountains  gradually  reced- 
ed on  either  hand,  and  at  last  appeared  only  as  isolated  peaks, 
rising  from  the  plain.  Near  Gyra,  there  is  a  lofty  single  peak, 
celebrated  as  being  the  sacred  hill  of  the  Jains,  who  are  said  to 
have  five  temples  on  the  summit.  None  of  them  are  visible 
from  the  road.  The  natives  I  met  in  this  part  of  Behar  differ- 
ed considerably  in  appearance  from  the  Hindoos  of  the  plains, 
and  probably  belonged  to  the  aboriginal  tribes  who  are  still 
found  among  those  hills.  The  head  is  much  larger  and  long- 
er, in  proportion  to  the  size  of  the  body,  which  is  short,  thick 
and  muscular.  Several  German  missionaries  have  located 
themselves  in  this  region,  and  are  said  to  have  had  consider- 
able success  in  their  labors  for  the  conversion  of  these  wild 
tribes. 

During  the  forenoon  I  was  overtaken  by  a  green  garree,  in 
which  sat  two  ladies.  As  it  approached,  I  heard  a  shrill  voice 
urging  on  the  driver,  who  lashed  his  horse  into  a  gallop,  and 
Bs  the  vehicle  passed,  the  elder  lady  thrust  her  head  out  of  the 
window,  and  nodded  to  me  with  an  air  of  insolent  triumph 
<5he  had  a  decidedly  red  face,  diversified  with  freckles,  keer 


ADVENTOfiES   ON    THE    ROAD.  257 

gray  eyes,  a  nose  with  a  palpable  snub,  and  a  profusion  o1 
coarse  hair,  of  a  color,  which  I  will  charitably  term  auburn. 
[t  was  rather  humiliating  to  be  passed  in  the  race  by  a  female 
of  that  style  of  beauty,  but  I  did  not  dispute  her  triumph. 
A.fter  leaving  Gyra  I  journeyed  all  the  afternoon  over  an  undu- 
lating upland,  covered  with  jungle  and  crossed  by  broken 
chains  of  hills,  which  sank  into  long,  regular,  surfy  swells,  as 
I  approached  the  plains  of  Bengal  Thus  far,  beyond  a  few 
balks  and  harmless  gymnastics,  I  had  slight  cause  to  com- 
plain of  the  horses  furnished  to  me;  but  here  my  troubles 
commenced  in  earnest.  The  initiative  was  taken  by  a  vicioua 
animal,  which  bolted  away  from  the  station,  dashed  off  the 
road,  and  after  hurling  the  garree  within  six  inches  of  a  pit 
ten  feet  deep,  was  recovered,  and  with  much  persuasion  in- 
duced to  go  forward.  I  was  comforted,  however,  by  passing  in 
ray  turn,  the  green  garree,  but  the  red-haired  lady  this  time 
turned  her  face  steadfastly  away  from  me,  while  a  scowl  of  ill- 
humor  added  to  the  upward  tendency  of  her  nose.  I  looked 
out  and  nodded  triumphantly,  but  she  only  sneered  with  more 
freezing  contempt.  She  overtook  me  again  at  Burdwan,  the 
next  morning,  but  after  that  I  kept  the  lead,  and  saw  no  more 
of  her. 

As  night  approached,  I  reached  the  boundary  of  the  hills; 
an  unbroken  level  extended  to  the  horizon.  The  air  was  ex- 
ceedingly mild  and  balmy,  and  the  moonlight  so  delicious 
that  I  sat  up  for  hours,  enjoying  it.  At  Munglepore,  which  I 
reached  about  eight  o'clock,  I  met  a  gentleman  and  lady,  on 
their  way  to  the  North-West,  in  a  private  carriage,  drawn  by 
eoolies.  I  had  a  pleasant  half-hour's  talk  with  them,  and  on 
leaving,  the  gentleman  gave  me  his  name  as  Major -,  of  the 


258  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAJf. 

^th,  and  asked  me  to  visit  him  if  I  ever  came  to  the  Pun 

jaub.  The  horses,  that  night,  deprived  me  of  all  sleep 
Sometimes  the  garree  was  planted  firmly  for  half  an  hour  in 
one  spot,  and  then  with  a  sudden  impulse  it  shot  forward  with 
flying  speed,  swerving  from  one  side  of  the  road  to  the  other, 
until  a  collision  of  some  kind  seemed  inevitable.  Once,  the 
horse  ran  away,  and  was  only  brought  up  by  dashing  against 
the  abutment  of  a  bridge ;  and  at  another  time,  being  awaken- 
ed by  an  unusual  movement  of  the  garree,  I  looked  out  and 
found  it  on  the  steep  side  of  a  hill,  with  three  natives  holding 
on  to  the  uppermost  wheels,  to  prevent  it  from  overturning. 
Notwithstanding  all  these  perils,  we  succeeded  in  reaching 
Bardwan,  seventy-two  miles  from  Calcutta,  by  daybreak. 

This  is  a  large  town,  and  the  residence  of  a  Raj  an.  It  is 
a  beautiful  place,  about  two  miles  in  length,  and  hf-s  a  large 
number  of  European  residences.  Here  I  was  first  struck  with 
the  difference  between  the  vegetation  of  Bengal  and  the  north- 
western provinces.  Instead  of  those  level  Egyptian  plains, 
with  their  topes  of  mango  and  tamarind,  here  were  the  gorge- 
ous growths  of  the  West  Indies,  or  the  Mexican  tierra  caliente. 
In  the  gardens  of  the  Europeans,  the  PoinscUia  hung  its 
long  azure  streamers  from  the  trees,  and  the  Bougainvillia 
raised  its  mounds  of  fiery  purple  bloom;  the  streets  were 
shaded  with  lofty  peepul  trees,  mixed  with  feathery  groups  of 
the  cocoa  palm ;  the  native  huts  were  embowered  in  thickets 
of  bamboo,  over  which  towered  the  cotton  tree,  with  its  bare 
boughs  and  clusters  of  scarlet,  lily-shaped  blossoms.  I  amv^ 
ed  at  Burdwan  at  such  an  early  hour,  and  the  new  gariee  and 
horse  were  gotten  ready  tor  me  with  so  little  delay,  that  thorc 
was  no  time  to  procure  breakfast,  before  leaving  the  town.     7 


A   WBATHFUL    DELAY.  259 

set  out  With  the  expectation  of  arriving  at  Calcutta  the  same 
evening,  but  had  not  proceeded  more  than  five  miles,  wheu  the 
horse  began  to  plunge,  struck  his  hind  feet  through  the  front 
of  the  garree,  snapped  the  axle,  and  left  me  stranded  on  the 
road. 

I  dispatched  the  driver  with  the  horse,  back  to  Burdwan,  to 
bring  another  vehicle,  and  took  my  seat  on  the  ruins  to  watch 
over  my  baggage.  Two  hours  thus  passed  away;  three  hours; 
the  sun  stood  high  and  hot  in  the  heavens,  and  at  last  my  pipe< 
to  which  I  invariably  turn  for  patience,  failed  of  its  effect. 
Twenty-four  hours  had  elapsed  since  I  had  eaten,  and  the 
pangs  of  fasting  were  superadded  to  the  wrath  of  deceived 
hopes.  Another  hour^  elapsed  and  it  was  now  high  noon ;  I 
hailed  the  natives  who  passed,  and  tried  to  bribe  them  to  drag 
my  carriage  back  to  the  town,  but  they  either  could  not  un- 
derstand, or  would  not  heed  me.  Still  another  hour,  and  with 
it,  finally,  the  new  conveyance  came.  My  wrath  was  too  greal 
for  words,  but  if  looks  could  have  affected  him,  the  driyei 
would  have  crumbled  to  ashes  on  the  spot.  Now,  thought  L 
the  Fates  are  satisfied,  and  I  shall  be  allowed  to  pursue  my 
journey  in  peace.  But,  after  making  a  mile  or  so  of  the 
second  stage,  the  horse,  perceiving  two  empty  wagons  by  the 
road-side,  dashed  up  against  them  with  the  garree,  and  there 
remained.  Neither  blows  nor  entreaties  would  induce  him  tc 
budge  a  step,  and  the  driver  finally  unharnessed  him  and  went 
back  for  another.  This  time  I  only  waited  two  hours,  and  I 
neither  smoked  nor  spoke,  for  I  was  fast  approaching  the  apathy 
li  despair.  Toward  sunset  I  reached  a  bungalow  and  achiev 
ed  a  meal,  after  which,  somewhat  comforted,  I  continued  mj 
'ourney. 


260  IKDIA,    CHINA     AHD   JAPAH 

As  the  road  approached  the  Hoogly  River,  the  country 
became  more  thickly  settled,  and  the  native  villages  viere  fre- 
quent. The  large  mansions,  gleaming  white  in  the  moonlight 
the  gardens,  the  avenues  of  superb  peepul  trees  and  groves  of 
palm,  spoke  of  the  wealth  and  luxury  of  the  inhabitants 
The  road  was  shaded  with  large  trees,  between  whose  trunks 
the  moonshine  poured  in  broad  streaks,  alternating  with  dark 
nesses  balmy  with  the  odor  of  unseen  flowers.  I  became 
tranquil  and  cheerful  again,  deeming  that  my  trials  were  over- 
Vain  expectation  !  While  passing  through  the  very  next  vil- 
lage, the  horse  ran  madly  against  a  high  garden  wall  on  the 
right  hand,  and  there  stuck.  He  was  unharnessed,  the  garree 
dragged  into  the  middle  of  the  road,  harnessed  again,  and  we 
started.  The  same  thing  happened  as  before;  he  gave  two 
frantic  leaps,  and  dashed  us  against  the  wall.  If  ever  there 
was  an  insane  animal,  that  was  one.  Six  times,  as  I  am  a 
Christian,  he  dashed  me  against  that  wall.  The  driver's  whip 
was  soon  exhausted,  and  I,  beside  myself  with  anger,  having 
nothing  else  at  hand,  took  my  long  cherry-wood  pipe,  and 
shivered  it  to  pieces  over  his  flanks.  But  he  was  inspired  by 
the  Fiend,  and  I  was  obliged  to  send  him  away  and  hire 
coolies  to  drag  the  vehicle  as  far  as  the  Hoogly,  six  miles  dis- 
tant, where  I  arrived  shortly  after  midnight. 

I  was  ferried  across  the  river,  took  another  horse,  and  hav 
mg  only  two  stages  to  Calcutta,  confidently  lay  down  and  went 
to  sleep.  I  was  awakened  in  half  an  hour  by  the  stopping  of 
the  garree.  Will  it  be  believed  that  that  horse,  too,  had  come 
to  a  stand  ?  Yet  such  was  the  plain  Truth — Fiction  would 
Dever  venture  on  such  an  accumulation  of  disasters — and  once 
more  the  driver  went  l^ack  for  another  animal,  leaving  the  gar 


THE   END    OF    "  GAEREE-D AWK. "  861 

ree,  with  myself  inside,  in  the  middle  of  the  road.  1  slept,  1 
knew  not  how  long,  until  aroused  by  the  sharp  peal  of  Tolleys 
of  musketry.  The  sun  was  up;  I  rubbed  my  eyes  and  looked 
out.  There  I  was,  in  the  midst  of  Barrackpore,  in  front  of 
the  parade-ground,  where  some  four  or  five  thousand  Sepoys 
were  going  through  their  morning  drill.  I  watched  their  evo 
lutions,  until  the  last  company  had  defiled  off  the  field,  for  the 
driver,  probably  surmising  my  fondness  for  military  specta- 
cles, did  not  make  his  appearance  for  another  hour. 

And  now  we  sped  down  the  grand  avenue,  which,  straight 
as  an  arrow,  and  shaded  by  giant  banyans  and  peepuls,  leads 
from  Barrackpore  to  Calcutta.  Gradually  palace-like  resi- 
dences, surrounded  with  gardens,  made  their  appearance  on 
either  side  of  the  road.  These,  in  turn,  gave  place  to  bamboo 
huts,  with  thatched  roofs.  Presently,  a  muddy  moat  appeared, 
and  having  crossed  it,  I  felt  that  I  was  at  last  inside  of  the 
Mahratta  Ditch,  and  that  my  perils  were  over.  In  half  an 
hour  afterwards  I  was  quartered  at  Spence's  Hotel;  my  jour- 
ney of  2,200  miles  in  the  interior  of  India  was  finished,  and  ] 
bade  adieu — for  ever  I  trust, — to   "garree-dawk." 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

CALCUTTA THE     BRITISH     EMPIRE     IN     INDIA. 

[mpressions  of  Calcutta— The  Houses  of  the  Residents— Public  Buildings  and  Institu 
tions— Colleges— Young  Bengal— Museum  of  the  Asiatic  Society— The  Botani< 
Garden — Calcutta  at  Snnset — Scene  on  the  Esplanade — English  Rule  in  India — Itt 
Results— Its  Disadvantages— Relation  of  the  Government  to  the  Population- Ten- 
ure of  Land  -Taxes — The  Sepoys— Revenue  of  India — Public  Works— Moral  Chan- 
ges— Social  Prejudices. 

I  REACHED  Calcutta  on  the  21st  of  February,  and  embarked 
for  Hong  Kong,  on  the  28th.  My  stay  was  consequently  too 
short  to  justify  me  in  attempting  more  than  a  general  descrip- 
tion of  the  city,  and  the  impression  which  it  made  upon  me 
After  the  glowing  accounts  I  had  heard  in  the  Provinces,  of  its 
opulent  social  life  and  architectural  magnificence,  I  confess  to 
a  feeling  of  disappointment.  It  is  the  London,  or  rather  the 
Paris,  of  India,  and  the  country  magistrate,  after  years  of 
lonely  life  in  the  jungles,  or  in  some  remote  cantonment,  looks 
forward  to  a  taste  of  its  unaccustomed  gayeties,  as  one  of  the 
bright  spots  in  his  life  of  exile.  But  it  by  no  means  deserves 
to  arrogate  to  itself  the  title  of  the  "  City  of  Palaces,"  so  long 
as  Venice  and  Florence,  or  even  Cadiz  and  La  Valletta,  re- 
main in  existence.  It  is  not  a  city  of  palaces,  but — the  Euro 
pean  portion  at  least — a  city  of  large  houses ;  and  the  view  oi 
tbe  long  line  of  mansions  on  the  Chowringhee  Road,  extend 


THE    HOUSES    OF    THE    REblDENlb-  263 

ing  northward  to  the  Government  Palace  and  the  City  Hall,  as 
seen  from  the  banks  of  the  Hoogly,  is  certainly  an  architectU' 
ral  diorama,  which  would  not  disgrace  any  capital  in  Europe. 
Beyond  this  view,  which,  as  it  is  the  first  that  strikes  the  eye 
of  a  stranger  arriving  by  sea,  explains  the  unbounded  admira- 
tion of  many  travellers,  there  is  little  to  satisfy  one's  expecta- 
tions. It  is  a  fair  outside,  a  frontispiece  of  wealth  and  parade, 
concealing  the  insignificance  and  poverty  of  the  interior.  Pen- 
etrate the  thin  crust,  which  hints  of  greater  splendors  behind 
it,  and  you  are  soon  lost  in  winding,  dusty  avenues,  lined  with 
the  mean  and  narrow  dwellings  of  the  lower  classes  of  the  na- 
tive population. 

The  houses  of  the  European  residents,  and  of  the  wealthy 
native  Baboos,  are  all  built  on  the  most  spacious  plan.  The 
chambers  are  very  large  and  lofty,  for  the  purpose  of  coolness, 
and  the  open,  arched  verandas  of  the  exterior  throw  a  little 
grace  around  the  large,  blank  masses  of  building.  The  mate- 
rial employed  is  brick  and  mortar  only,  which  is  plastered  and 
painted  white  or  cream-colored.  On  account  of  the  damp,  hot 
atmosphere  of  Bengal,  the  painting  must  be  renewed  every 
year,  otherwise  it  becomes  mildewed.  The  upper  stories 
display  a  great  quantity  of  windows,  with  green  jalousies  be- 
fore them.  These  mansions  are  mostly  furnished  in  a  rich  and 
elegant  style,  though  straw  matting  takes  the  place  of  carpets, 
and  broad  punkas  (for  creating  an  artificial  current  of  air) 
hang  from  the  ceiling.  A  large  retinue  of  servants — varying 
from  ten  to  thirty — move  about  in  their  long  white  garment 
and  fiat  tmbans,  hearing  your  commands  with  folded  hands 
and  a  profound  inclination  of  the  head.  The  style  of  living  is 
sumptuouSj   but   rather   too   closely  modelled   after    LondoD 


2t54  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

habits.  Perhaps  there  is  no  community  in  Europe  which  lives 
in  a  style  of  equal  luxury,  this  being  the  headquarters  of  the 
General  Government,  and  the  seat  of  many  of  the  best  offices 
in  its  gift. 

Calcutta  has  little  to  show,  in  the  way  of  architecture 
The  Government  Palace  is  said  to  be  a  very  cool  and  comfort- 
able residence,  which,  in  that  climate,  compensates  for  manj 
defects ;  but  let  the  reader  picture  to  himself  five  immense 
cubes  of  masonry,  touching  each  other  precisely  like  five  black 
squares  on  a  chess-board,  with  a  low  dome  over  the  central  one, 
and  he  will  have  a  correct  picture  of  it.  The  City  Hall,  a 
semi-Greek  structure,  is  to  my  eye  the  finest  building  in  the 
place.  It  has  a  noble  hall,  supported  by  two  rows  of  Corin- 
thian columns.  The  Metcalfe  Hall,  with  a  Corinthian  portico, 
the  new  Hospital,  Hare's  Hindoo  College,  the  Medical  College, 
and  other  edifices,  are  proud  testimonials  of  the  public  spirit 
and  liberality  of  the  citizens  of  Calcutta,  and  their  architec- 
tural excellence  is  a  matter  of  secondary  importance.  The 
new  Cathedral,  however,  which  has  lately  been  erected  at  a  cost 
of  $150,000,  reflects  little  credit  on  its  projectors.  It  is 
Gothic,  of  an  impure  and  disproportionate  character,  and  being 
planted  at  one  of  the  most  prominent  points  on  the  Chowrin- 
ghee  Road,  must  be  a  perpetual  eyesore  to  such  of  the  resi- 
dents as  cherish  a  taste  for  Art.  Several  flourishing  col* 
leges  have  been  established,  of  late  years,  for  the  improvement 
of  the  native  population.  That  which  was  founded  by  the  late 
David  Hare,  Esq.,  ranks  among  the  first.  I  received  an  invi 
tation  to  attend  a  performance  of  Hamlet^  in  English,  by  a 
company  of  Hindoo  students,  within  its  walls.  Another  phil- 
^uilirop  0   citizen  had  just  completed  a  college  for  females,  the 


"young  bengal."  266 

success  of  which  is  doubted,  as  the  Hindoo  girls  are  betrothed 

rery  early,  and  after  that  ceremony,  kept  in  strict  seclusion. 

There  are  two  mission  schools,  under  the  patronage  of  the 

Church  of  Scotland,  in  each  of  which  there  are  more  than  a 

thousand  pupils.     Although  the  conversions  to   Christianitj 

are  comparatively  few,  the   enlightened    influence  of  Educa 

tion,  and,  more  especially,  of  European  society,  is  making  it 

self  felt  among  the  intelligent  native  families,  and  a  party 

which  styles  itself  "  Young  Bengal "  is  rapidly  increasing  its 

ranks.     The  young  men,  whose  faith  in  the  absurdities  of 

the  religion  of  their   fathers  is  destroyed,  have  just  entered 

the  stage  of  utter  scepticism,  through  which  they  must  pass  in 

»rder  to  reach  the  true  Gospel.     Their  scorn  and  irreverence 

is   manifested  in  eating  the  flesh  of  the  sacred  cow,  making 

themselves  tipsy  with  the  forbidden  blood  of  the  grape,  and 

disregarding  the  awful  limits  and  restrictions  of  caste.     Many 

Europeans  are  shocked  at  these  proceedings,  but  I  think  they 

are  hopeful  signs.     You  cannot  tear  the  deep-rooted  faith  of 

ages  out  of  the  heart  of  a  race  without  tearing  up  with  it  all 

capacity  for  Faith.     But  a  new  soil  gradually  forms,  and  the 

seed  of  Truth,   if  dropped  at  a  happy  moment,   takes  living 

hold  therein 

During  my  stay  in  Calcutta,  I  enjoyed  the  hospitality  of 

my  countryman,  Mr  Barstow,  and  his  partner  Mr.  Ashburner, 

a  Scotch  gentleman.     Here,  as  every  where  throughout  India, 

every  door  is  opened  to  the  stranger,  with  a  spontaneous  and 

generous  hospitality  which  is  equalled  in  no  other  part  of  the 

world.     Mr.  Chas.  Hufi"nagle,  the  American  Consul,  to  whom 

I  was  indebted  for  many  kind  attentions,  accompanied  me  to 

the  Botanic  Gardens,  and  to  the  Museum  of  the  Asiatic  Soo» 
12 


2r)6  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

etj.  The  latter  embraces  a  fine  library,  including  many  rare 
works  in  Oriental  languages,  a  large  zoological  and  mineralog 
ical  collection,  and  a  number  of  Hindoo  antiquities,  gathered 
from  different  parts  of  India.  Among  the  latter  is  a  stone 
covered  with  Pali  characters,  from  which  Mr.  Prinsep,  the 
distinguished  scholar  and  antiquarian,  obtained  his  clue  to  the 
reading  of  inscriptions  in  that  language.  The  Museum,  how- 
ever, is  evidently  suffering  from  neglect;  the  statues  and 
sculptures  taken  from  ancient  temples,  are  scattered  about  the 
grounds,  and  exposed  to  the  action  of  the  weather,  and  many  of 
the  specimens  of  natural  history  have  been  injured  by  the  rav- 
ages of  the  white  ants.  The  Botanic  Garden,  which  is  on  the 
opposite  bank  of  the  Hoogly,  three  or  four  miles  below  the  city, 
is  a  beautiful  spot,  and  contains  an  unusually  rich  collection  of 
the  trees  and  plants  of  the  Tropics.  The  banyan  tree,  with 
its  110  trunks,  is  considered  a  great  lion,  but  I  had  seen  speci- 
mens of  more  than  double  the  size  in  the  valley  of  the  Ner- 
budda.  Among  the  ornamental  plants,  I  was  most  struck 
with  the  Amherstia  nobilis,  a  native  of  Burmah,  with  glossy 
green  foliage,  and  long,  pendent  spikes  of  scarlet  flowers ;  the 
Bougainvillia  spedahilis,  one  broad  sheet  of  purple  bloom 
and  the  Poinsettia,  whose  sky-blue  clusters,  ten  to  fifteen  feet 
in  length,  hung  like  streamers  from  the  trees  on  which  it 
lea  ed. 

From  half  an  hour  before,  until  an  hour  after  sunset,  Cal 
jutta  is  to  be  seen  in  its  greatest  glory.  Then,  all  who  can 
procure  an  equipage,  drive  on  the  esplanade,  an  open  space  oi 
three  or  four  miles  in  length  by  nearly  a  mile  in  breadth,  ex- 
tending along  the  banks  of  the  Hoogly,  from  the  Government 
Palace  to  Fort  William,  and  still  further,  to  the  country  sub 


SCENE    OS    THE    ESPLANADE  26*3 

orb  of  Garden  Reach.  All  the  splendor  of  Chowringhee  Roaa 
fronts  on  this  magnificent  promenade,  and  I  forgave  the  pride 
of  the  Calcuttanese  in  their  city,  when  I  joined  the  brilliant 
stream  of  life  in  the  main  drive  on  the  banks  of  the  river, 
watching  hundreds  of  lordly  equipages  passing  and  repassing, 
while  on  the  other  hand,  the  three  miles  of  stately  residencet 
— palaces,  if  you  insist  upon  it — shone  rosy-bright  in  the  face 
of  the  setting  sun.  The  Parsee,  the  Hindoo  and  the  Mussul- 
man mingled  in  the  ranks  of  the  pale  Englishmen,  and  reclin- 
ed in  their  carriages,  or  drove  their  mettled  Arabs  with  as 
much  spirit  as  the  best  of  their  conquerors.  Their  Cashmere 
shawls,  their  silks  and  jewels,  and  the  gay  Oriental  liveries  of 
the  syces  and  footmen,  gave  the  display  an  air  of  pomp  and 
magnificence  which  threw  Hyde  Park  and  the  Champs  Elysees 
into  the  shade.  The  fine  band  from  Fort  William,  playing 
lively  airs  on  the  green,  gave  the  crowning  charm  to  the  hour 
and  the  scene.  The  languor  of  the  Indian  day  was  forgotten, 
and  the  rich,  sensuous  life  of  the  East  flashed  into  sudden 
and  startling  vividness.  I  shall  try  to  retain  the  impression 
of  these  sunset  views  of  Calcutta,  for  they  belong  to  that  class 
of  memories  which  are  but  enriched  by  time. 

Here,  on  the  eve  of  my  departure  from  India,  is  a  fitting 
occasion  to  say  a  few  words  on  the  character  and  the  results 
of  the  English  rule.  The  Government  of  the  East  India 
Company  presents  an  anomaly  to  which  there  is  no  parallel  in 
history.  It  is  a  system  so  complicated  and  involved,  embrac- 
ing so  many  heterogeneous  elements,  and  so  difficult  to  grasp, 
as  a  whole,  that  the  ignorance  manifested  even  in  the  English 
Parliament,  with  regard  to  its  operations,  is  scarcely  to  be 
wondered  at.     From  the  rapidity  of  my  progress  through  the 


268  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

country,  and  the  disconnected  and  imperfect  nature  of  my  ob- 
servations, I  feel  some  reluctance  in  venturing  upon  the  sub 
ject^  and  the  reader  must  be  contented  to  receive  a  few  general 
impressions,  instead  of  a  critical  dissection  of  the  system,  which, 
indeed^  would  occupy  too  much  space,  even  if  I  were  compe^ 
tent  to  undertake  it. 

My  previous  notions  of  English  rule  in  India  were  obtained 
chiefly  from  the  articles  on  the  subject  in  the  progressive 
newspapers  of  England,  and  were,  I  need  hardly  say,  unfavor- 
able. The  American  press  is  still  more  unsparing  in  its  denun- 
ciations, though  very  few  of  the  writers  have  any  definite  idea 
of  the  nature  of  the  wrongs  over  which  they  grow  so  indignant. 
That  there  are  wrongs  and  abuses  which  call  for  severe  repre- 
hension, is  undeniable ;  but  I  have  seen  enough  to  satisfy  me 
that,  in  spite  of  oppression,  in  some  instances  of  the  most  grind- 
ing character,  in  spite  of  that  spirit  of  selfish  aggrandizement 
which  first  set  on  foot  and  is  still  prosecuting  the  subjugation 
of  India,  the  country  has  prospered  under  English  Government. 
So  far  from  regretting  the  progress  of  annexation,  which  has 
been  so  rapid  of  late  years,  (and  who  are  we^  that  we  should 
cast  a  stone  against  this  sin  ?)  I  shall  consider  it  a  fortunate 
thing  for  India,  when  the  title  of  every  native  sovereign  is  ex- 
tinguished, and  the  power  of  England  stretches,  in  unbroken 
integrity,  from  Cashmere  to  Cape  Comorin.  Having  made 
this  admission,  I  shall  briefly  refer  to  some  of  the  most  promi- 
ent  evils  and  benefits  of  the  system. 

It  is  the  misfortune  of  India  that  it  is  governed  by  a  com- 
mercial corporation,  which  annually  drains  the  country  of  a 
large  proportion  of  its  revenues.  It  is  true  that  the  amount  of 
the  dividend  on  the  East  India  stock  is  fixed  by  Parliament 


BAST    INDIA   COMPANY.  269 

and  cannot  be  exceeded ;  but  that  stock,  with  the  debts  in 
curred,  by  various  expensive  wars,  amounts  to  upwards  oi 
$225,000,000,  to  meet  the  interest  on  which  requires  an  annua 
expenditure  of  $15,000,000.  Besides  this,  a  large  amount  oi 
monej  passes  out  of  the  country  in  the  form  of  salaries  and  pen 
eions  (the  Oivil  Service  being  much  better  paid  than  any  othei 
service  in  the  world),  so  that  a  constant  system  of  depletion  is 
carried  on,  which  would  have  greatly  impoverished  the  coun- 
try by  this  time,  had  not  its  effects  been  partially  counteracted 
by  other  and  compensating  influences  in  the  Government. 
The  governing  machinery  is  also  very  unwieldy  and  lumbering, 
fettered  by  a  system  of  checks,  which,  as  some  of  the  depart- 
ments are  seven  thousand  miles  apart,  renders  it  extremely 
difficult  to  introduce  new  measures,  no  matter  how  urgent  may 
be  the  necessity  for  their  adoption.  Parliament  in  this  in- 
stance adheres  to  the  old  maxim  of  quieta  non  movere^  and  al- 
though the  charter  of  the  East  India  Company  comes  up  for 
renewal  once  every  twenty  years,  few  steps  have  been  taken  to 
lop  off  the  old  excrescences  and  simplify  the  action  of  its  exec- 
utive powers. 

The  relation  of  the  Government  to  the  laboring  millions  o* 
India  is  one  that  has  been  frequently  condemned.  It  was  in- 
herited from  the  former  rulers,  but  has  since  undergone  con 
Biderable  modification,  and  not,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  for  the  bet- 
ter. It  is  substantially  that  of  landlord  and  tenant,  the 
Government  holding  all  the  land  as  its  own  property,  and  leas- 
ing it  to  the  inhabitants  according  to  a  certain  form  of  assess- 
ment.  In  some  instances  it  is  leased  directly  to  the  laborers 
in  others  tc  zemindarSj  or  contractors  on  a  large  scale,  whc 
nub-let  it  to  the  former  at  an  advanced  rate,  and  practise  ty 


270  INDIA,    CHINA,   AND    JAPAN. 

rannical  extortions  upon  them,  in  order  to  increase  their  OWB 
profits.  The  worst  feature  of  this  system  is,  that  the  rents 
increase  in  proportion  to  the  productiveness  of  the  land,  so 
that  it  discourages  the  laborer  from  endeavoring  to  improve  hig 
portion.  I  have  been  informed  that  the  amount  received  by 
Government  averages  about  75  per  cent,  of  the  value  of  the 
produce.  The  consequence  is  that  the  laborers,  whether  leasing 
from  the  zemindars  or  directly  from  the  Government  officers, 
make  but  a  bare  subsistence  from  year  to  year.  In  almost  any 
other  country  they  would  be  kept  permanently  at  staryation 
point,  but  in  India  their  wants  are  so  few  and  their  habits  of 
life  so  simple,  that  the  amount  of  positive  distress  is  compara- 
tively small.  For  a  common  laborer,  such  as  are  employed 
by  Government  on  roads  and  canals,  four  rupees  a  month,  or 
$24  a  year,  is  considered  good  wages,  and  there  are  millions 
who  manage  to  subsist  on  half  this  sum. 

In  Bengal  and  Madras  the  condition  of  the  laboring  popu- 
lation is  most  unfavorable,  on  account  of  the  peculiar  land 
systems  which  have  been  adopted  in  those  presidencies.  In 
Madras,  where  what  is  called  the  Ryotwar  system  is  in  force, 
a  general  assessment  of  all  produce  and  property  is  made  every 
year,  and  the  rents  fluctuate  according  to  this  standard,  within 
the  limits  of  a  maximum  rate,  fixed  by  Government.  But  in 
order  to  carry  out  this  system,  the  assistance  of  a  large  num- 
ber of  petty  native  officials  is  required,  and  the  abuses  which 
we  perpetrated  under  it  are  said  to  be  absolutely  monstrous 
In  the  north-west  provinces,  where  an  assessment  is  only  made 
every  thirty  years,  and  the  occupation  and  cultivation  of  £ 
tract  of  land  constitutes  a  sort  of  claim  to  the  renewal  of  the 
lease,  the  country  is  in  a  much  more  flourishing  state.     The 


THE    SEPOIfS.  271 

soil  is  under  excellent  cultivation,  and  the  inliabitants  arc 
thrifty  and  contented,  while  in  the  neighboring  kingdom  of 
Oude,  grinding  taxes  are  extorted  every  year  by  the  force  of 
an  armed  soldiery,  districts  which  twenty  years  ago  blossomed 
as  a  garden,  are  now  waste  and  deserted,  and  thousands  of  op 
pressed  subjects  annually  escape  into  the  Company's  territo- 
ries, where  they  find  at  least  security  of  life  and  property. 
Despotic  as  the  Company's  government  certainly  is,  it  is  a  well- 
regulated  despotism,  and  its  quiet  and  steady  sway  is  far  pre- 
ferable to  the  capricious  tyranny  of  the  native  rulers. 

It  speaks  well  for  the  Government  that  its  military  service 
is  popular  among  the  natives.  There  is  no  conscription,  the 
Sepoy  regiments  being  raised  entirely  by  voluntary  enlistment, 
and  could  be  increased  to  any  extent,  if  desired.  The  miKtai-y 
force  amounts  to  about  240,000  men — larger,  one  would  sup- 
pose, than  is  actually  needed,  since  it  entails  a  great  expense 
upon  the  country.  The  men  are  well  fed  and  clothed — with  the 
exception  of  the  tight  coats  and  stiff  leather  stocks  in  which 
they  are  tortured  daily — and  receive  a  liberal  pay.  They 
make  excellent  soldiers,  and  when  placed  on  the  flanks  of  a 
European  battalion,  march  to  battle  as  bravely  as  any  in  the 
world.  For  discipline,  drill  and  soldierly  appearance,  some  of 
the  regiments  would  be  noted  anywhere. 

The  land  revenue  is  of  course  the  main  source  of  supply  to 
the  Government,  but  there  are  some  other  taxes  which  are 
almost  as  severely  felt  by  the  population.  The  manufacture  of 
opium  is  a  Government  monopoly,  which  yields  a  nett  annual 
revenue  of  $15,000,000  The  duty  on  salt  is  enormous,  and  as 
this  is  an  article  of  universal  consumption,  is  very  severely  felt- 
It  amounts  in  some  parts  of  the  country  to  two  rupees  ($1)  the 


272  IKDIA,    CHINA,    AND   JAPAN. 

maund,  while  in  the  territories  of  native  princes  the  article 
may  be  bought  for  six  annas  (twenty  cents)  the  mauncu  The 
internal  customs  which  formerly  existed  have  been  abolished, 
and  a  gradual  amelioration  of  the  burdens  under  which  the 
native  population  has  been  weighed  down,  seems  to  be  taking 
place.  Though  very  slow  to  expend  any  money  in  public 
works,  the  Government  still  moves  forward  in  this  direction — 
and  lately  by  guaranteeicg  to  the  holders  of  stock  in  the 
India  Railroad  Companies  five  per  cent,  for  twenty  years, 
gave  a  powerful  impetus  to  an  undertaking  which  will  in  time 
change  the  whole  aspect  of  the  country.  The  Grand  Trunk 
Road,  extending  from  Calcutta  to  Delhi,  a  distance  of  900 
miles,  and  now  being  carried  on  to  Lahore,  is  one  of  the  finest 
highways  in  the  world.  The  Ganges  Canal,  which  will  cost 
$10,000,000  when  finished,  will  cover  with  perpetual  harvests 
the  great  peninsular  plain  between  the  Ganges  and  Jumna, 
and  render  famine  impossible  in  the  north  of  India.  There  is 
scarcely  a  large  city  in  the  Company's  dominions  without  its 
schools,  its  colleges  and  its  hospitals,  supported  mainly  by 
Government  bounty. 

The  moral  changes  which  have  been  wrought  within  the 
last  hundred  years,  or  since  the  battle  of  Plassy  laid  the  true 
foundation  of  the  present  vast  commercial  appanage,  are  even 
greater  than  the  physical.  The  Civil  Service,  though  liable  to 
objection,  from  the  favoritism  practised  in  the  appointment  of 
its  officers,  and  their  promotion  by  seniority,  without  regard  to 
fcalent  or  capacity,  still  secures  to  the  native  a  more  just  and 
equitable  administration  of  law  than  he  could  obtain  fronr 
magistrates  of  his  own  race.  The  horrid  practice  of  suttee,  oi 
ridow-burning,  has  been  totally  suppressed ;  the  confederatioi 


SOCIAL    PREJUDICES.  278 

of  Thugs,  or  Stranglers,  which  extended  throughout  all  Cen- 
tral India,  has  been  broken  up,  and  the  Dacoits,  or  robber 
bands,  which  are  still  in  existence  along  the  Ganges,  and  in 
he  hilly  country  at  the  foot  of  the  Himalayas,  are  gradually 
becoming  extinct.  With  few  exceptions,  order  and  security/ 
reign  throughout  the  whole  of  India,  and  I  doubt  whether,  on 
the  whole,  there  has  been  less  moral  degradation  and  physical 
suffering  at  any  time  since  the  power  of  the  Mogul  Emperora 
began  to  decline. 

There  is  one  feature  of  English  society  in  India,  however, 
which  I  cannot  notice  without  feeling  disgusted  and  indignant 
I  allude  to  the  contemptuous  manner  in  which  the  natives 
even  those  of  the  best  and  most  intelligent  classes,  are  almost 
invariably  spoken  of  and  treated.  Social  equality,  except  in 
some  rare  instances,  is  utterly  out  of  the  question.  The  tone 
adopted  towards  the  lower  classes  is  one  of  lordly  arrogance , 
towards  the  rich  and  enlightened,  one  of  condescension  and 
patronage.  I  have  heard  the  term  "  niggers  "  applied  to  the 
whole  race  by  those  high  in  office ;  with  the  lower  orders  o* 
the  English  it  is  the  designation  in  general  use.  And  this,  too, 
towards  those  of  our  own  Caucasian  blood,  where  there  is  no 
■nstinct  of  race  to  excuse  their  unjust  prejudice.  Why  is  it 
that  the  virtue  of  Exeter  Hall  and  Stafford  House  can  tole- 
rate this  fact  without  a  blush,  yet  condemn,  with  pharisaic  zeal, 
the  social  inequality  of  the  negro  and  the  white-  races  in 
America  ? 

My  visit  to  India  occupied  only  two  months,  and  conse- 
quently some  of  my  conclusions  may  be  too  hastily  drawn.  I 
have  never  made  a  more  interesting,  or  instructive  journey,  oi 
visited  a  country  better  worthy  of  thorough  and  confcientioui 
12* 


274  INDIA,    CfflNA,    AND    JAPAN. 

study.  The  historical  problem  which  it  presents  is  jet  di& 
tant  from  its  solution,  and  it  is  one  vhi'^h  nc  inCiiiber  of  the 
4nglo-Saxon  race  can  contemplate  yr'lh  indiffoif.r.<?«*. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

PROM  CALCUTTA  TO  HONO  EDNO. 

Departure  from  Calcutta— Descending  the  Hoogly  River— An  Ac  jident— Kedgeree— 
The  Songs  of  the  Lascar*— Saugor  Island— The  Sandheads— The  Bay  of  Bengtl- 
Fellow- Passengers— The  Peak  of  Narcondan— The  Andaman  Islands— Approach  tc 
Penong- A  Malay  Garree— Beauty  of  the  Island— Tropical  Forests— A  Vale  of  Par- 
adise—The Summit— A  Panorama— Nutmeg  Orchards— The  Extremity  of  Asia— 
The  Malayan  Archipelago— Singapore— Chinese  Population— Scenery  of  the  Island 
—The  China  Sea— Arrival  at  Hong  Kong. 

The  steamship  Pekin  was  advertised  to  leave  Calcutta  at  day- 
light on  the  28th,  so  I  drove  down  to  Garden  Keach,  where  she 
lay,  the  evening  previous,  and  passed  the  night  on  board.  When 
I  went  on  deck,  the  sun  was  rising  broad  and  red  between  the 
tall  Australian  pines  on  the  bank;  steam  and  smoke  were  jet- 
ting out  of  the  steamer's  funnels ;  crowds  of  natives,  with  a  few 
Europeans,  were  gathered  on  the  shore,  and  all  the  confusion  oi 
letting  go  cables,  bringing  baggage  at  the  last  moment,  shout- 
ing from  the  paddle-boxes,  and  ringing  bells  on  the  fore^-astle, 
showed  that  we  were  about  to  start.  The  steamer's  head  was 
swung  around  by  the  tide,  then  running  at  the  rate  of  seven  or 
eight  knots  an  hour ;  we  ran  upon  two  buoys  placed  near  the 
shore,  broke  some  floats  from  the  port  wheel,  and  then  started 
for  the  sea.      A  little  below   our  anchorage  we   passed   th( 


276  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

Bishop's  College,  on  the  western  "bank  of  the  Hoogly.  It  con 
gists  of  several  detached  buildings,  in  the  hideous  ludo-Gdthic 
style  introduced  by  the  English.  It  is  an  ostentatious  institu- 
tion, and  of  little  practical  use  in  a  religious  point  of  view. 

We  swept  too  rapidly  past  the  beautiful  residences  on  both 
banks  of  the  Hoogly — spacious  white  mansions  standing  in 
lawns  shaded  with  the  mango,  the  cocoa-palm  and  the  Aus- 
tralian pine,  overgrown  with  jungle  creepers,  and  surrounded 
with  gardens  gay  with  the  crimson  BougainviUia  or  the  long 
white  chalices  of  the  Datura^  fringing  the  water's  edge.  Two 
miles  further  these  evidences  of  taste  and  luxury  disappeared, 
and  the  scattered  villages  of  the  natives,  with  a  few  patches  of 
corn  and  cane  around  them,  kept  back  the  primeval  jungle. 
Turninor  the  ande  of  Garden  Reach,  we  lost  our  distant  view 
Df  the  Ochterlony  Monument,  the  beacon  of  Calcutta,  though 
the  numbers  of  native  and  foreign  craft,  with  steam-tugs,  as 
cending  and  descending  the  river,  still  showed  our  proximity 
to  a  mart  of  commerce.  For  some  distance  along  the  western 
bank  the  people  are  brick-makers,  and  their  quaint  pyramids  of 
yellow  clay  frequently  rise  above  the  tops  of  the  cocoa  trees. 
The  Bengalees  live  in  thatched  bamboo  huts,  directly  on  the 
water's  edore,  with  a  dense  rank  wilderness  behind  them.  The 
cocoa-nut  palm  is  the  principal  tree,  though  the  mango  also 
flourishes,  and  the  graceful  areca  is  sometimes  seen.  The  cot- 
ton tree,  with  its  showers  of  scarlet,  lily-shaped  blossoms,  is  a 
Host  brilliant  object,  and  splendidly  stars  the  deep  greenback- 
ground  of  the  jungle.  Tigers  are  abundant  in  these  parts,  and 
the  river  abounds  with  crocodiles,  but  I  left  India  without 
having  seen  either  of  those  beasts.  The  green  parrot  screamed 
fron?    the   tops   of   the  palms,  brown    vultures    swept   lazily 


KEDGEREE SONGS    OF    THE    LA8CABS.  277 

t&iough  the  air,  and  a  few  sea-gulls  skimmed  the  waves,  but  no 
more  ferocious  animals  met  my  eyes. 

About  thirty  miles  down  the  river,  we  ran  into  a  hand- 
some three-masted  schooner,  carrying  away  her  bow-sprit  and 
cutting  in  twain  one  of  our  quarter-boats.  We  went  more 
slowly  after  this,  for  the  navigation  was  becoming  intricate,  ol 
account  of  the  breadth  of  the  river  and  the  frequency  of  sand- 
banks. The  shores  being  a  dead  level,  and  the  jungle  with 
which  they  are  covered  not  very  lofty,  they  soon  sank  to  a  low 
green  line  on  either  side,  and  the  native  villages  ceased.  As 
far  as  Diamond  Harbor,  about  sixty  miles  below  Calcutta, 
there  is  a  good  road  on  the  eastern  bank,  and  telegraph  stations 
at  intervals.  The  river  is  here  four  miles  broad,  and  gradually 
widens  as  we  approach  the  sea.  We  dropped  down  to  Kedge* 
ree^  on  the  western  bank,  about  sunset,  and  there  halted  unti! 
the  next  morning  at  ten,  in  order  to  cross  St.  James's  Bar 
n^ith  the  flood  tide.  As  we  were  hoisting  anchor,  the  smoke  of 
a  steamer  was  descried  in  the  offing,  and  on  nearer  approach 
she  proved  to  be  the  Tenasserim,  returning  from  Rangoon  with 
Lord  Dalhousie,  the  Governor  General,  and  suite  on  board. 

While  listening  to  the  songs  of  the  Lascars,  and  Chinamen, 
as  they  were  getting  up  the  anchor,  I  was  struck  with  the  resem- 
blance of  one  of  their  refrains  to  one  of  the  songs  of  the  Nile 
boatmen.  The  rhythm  was  trochaic  trimeter,  with  a  redun- 
dant syllable,  precisely  like  the  "  Ed-doohkan  el-liboodeh 
fayn?''''  of  the  Arabs.  The  chorus  of  these  Lascars  was 
'  Panch  sepparree  Bombay-ka  ' "  (Five  betel-nut  palms  of 
iBombay.)  They  sang  in  perfect  accord,  and  the  air  was  really 
/ery  sweet  and  melodious.  The  rhythm  was  marked  by  a 
(Strong  accent  on  the  long  syllables,  which  seems  to  bo  a  gen 


278  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

eral  custom  of  Eastern  singers.  Another  simple  and  c(  mmoL 
measure  with  the  Hindoos  is:  ^^Hathee-par  howdah,  ghora- 
par  j'een^^  (the  howdah  on  the  elephant,  the  saddle  on  the 
horse),  which  corresponds  to  that  of  Motherwell's  ballad : 

"  Home  came  the  saddle, 
He  nevermore  1  ** 

We  crossed  the  mouth  of  the  river  to  Sanger  Island,  quite 
sinking  the  western  shore,  and  after  running  past  its  solitary 
light-house  and  dreary  tiger  jungles,  stood  out  for  the  Sand- 
heads.  The  extreme  point  of  Sanger  Island  is  believed  by  the 
Hindoos  to  mark  the  junction  of  the  Ganges  with  the  sea,  and 
they  accordingly  esteem  it  as  one  of  the  holiest  spots  in  India. 
At  a  certain  season  of  the  year  they  flock  thither  in  great 
numbers,  for  the  purpose  of  bathing  and  offering  sacrifices 
This  was  my  last  view  of  India,  for,  although  we  were  thread- 
ing the  channels  of  the  Sandheads  and  surrounded  by  the 
muddy  waves  of  the  Gunga,  for  two  or  three  hours  afterwards, 
no  land  was  visible.  About  noon  we  discharged  the  pilot,  and 
having  fairly  entered  on  the  broad  Bay  of  Bengal,  headed  for 
Penan  g. 

The  voyage  across  the  bay  was  remarkably  pleasant. 
There  was  a  profound  calm  in  the  air  and  on  the  water,  and 
our  progress  through  it  created  but  a  faint  semblance  of  a 
breeze.  The  mercury  ranged  from  80^  to  85^\  the  tempera- 
ture at  which  indolence  becomes  a  luxury.  I  had  been  so 
bruised,  jolted,  shaken  and  excited  by  my  journey  through 
India,  that  the  sweetness  of  the  air,  the  repose  of  the  sea,  and 
the  quiet  movement  of  our  vessel,  were  exceedingly  grateful 
and  refreshing.     There  were  only  six  other  passengers,  and 


TEE   ANDAMAN    ISLANDS.  279 

each  ol  us  possessed  an  entire  state-room — a  great  advantage 
in  a  voyage  in  the  tropical  seas.  The  captain,  a  red-haired 
giant  in  appearance,  was  one  of  the  frankest,  heartiest  and 
most  genia!.  of  commanders,  and  the  other  officers  were  quiet 
and  gentlemanly  in  their  manners.  Among  the  passengers 
were  Sir  Lawrence  Peel,  Chief  Justice  of  Bengal,  and  Mr. 
Dorin,  Secretary  of  the  Board  of  Directors  of  the  East  India 
Company. 

After  sailing  two  or  three  days  across  the  Bay,  towards 
the  Burmese  coast,  we  passed  one  night  through  the  Cocoa 
Islands,  off  the  northern  point  of  the  Great  Andaman.  The 
next  day  we  saw  the  island  of  Narcondan — a  single  volcanic 
peak,  which  rises  from  the  water  to  the  height  of  2,500  feet. 
Its  summit  was  hidden  in  clouds,  and  its  sides  completely 
covered  with  the  richest  vegetation.  It  is  singular  that  so  lit- 
tle should  be  known  of  the  Andaman  Islands,  which  lie  high 
up  the  Bay  of  Bengal,  almost  on  the  route  between  Calcutta 
and  Burmah.  The  larger  island  is  about  a  hundred  miles  in 
length,  and  has  a  splendid  harbor  at  its  northern  extremity. 
The  East  India  Company  at  one  time  attempted  to  make  a 
settlement  there,  but  failed  on  account  of  sickness  amonor  the 
colonists.  The  natives  of  the  islands  are  believed  to  be  simi- 
lar to  the  Papuans,  though  some  consider  them  a  branch  of 
the  African  race.  It  is  said  that  they  are  cannibals,  but  very 
little  is  known  of  their  habits  and  modes  of  life. 

Approaching  the  promontory  of  Malacca,  we  caught  a  dis- 
tant view  of  the  island  of  Salanga,  and  then  stood  in  nearer 
the  eastern  shore.  On  the  morning  of  the  6th  of  March,  we 
made  the  island  of  Penang,  which  is  separated  from  the  peniu' 
Bula  by  a  strait  less  than  a  mile  in  width      The  town  of  Pf 


280  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

nang  lies  on  the  inner  side,  where  the  narrowness  of  the  strait 
forms  a  secure  harbor  for  vessels.  The  eastern  half  of  the 
island  is  nearly  level,  rising  to  the  west  into  a  group  of  loftj 
mountains,  clothed  to  the  summits  with  forests.  A  strip  of  silvei 
beach  along  the  shore,  divided  the  pale  emerald  of  the  sea — a 
hue  which  betrays  a  floor  of  coral — from  the  darker  tint  of  the 
forests  of  cocoa  palm,  which  rose  behind.  Here  and  there  a 
picturesque  Malay  village  crouched  in  the  shade,  and  num- 
bers of  small  fishing  craft  dotted  the  surface  of  the  water.  A 
Chinese  junk,  with  sails  of  matting,  divided  into  a  score  of 
reefs,  and  with  a  great  black  eye  on  each  side  of  her  square 
bows,  moved  slowly  past  us  on  her  way  to  Singapore.  The 
morning  wind,  blowing  off  the  land,  fanned  us  with  spicy  odors, 
and  hinted  of  the  groves  of  nutmeg  and  clove-trees,  for  which 
Penang  is  celebrated. 

When  the  steamer  came  to  anclior,  and  we  were  informf 
that  seven  hours  was  the  limit  of  our  stay,  I  determined  to 
7isit  the  signal-station  on  the  summit  of  the  highest  peak  of 
the  island,  about  eight  miles  distant,  and  set  off  at  once,  in 
company  with  one  of  the  officers.  We  landed  at  a  little  wooden 
jetty,  where  a  number  of  light  garrees,  with  a  pony  harnessed 
to  each,  were  collected,  in  anticipation  of  employment.  One 
of  the  passengers,  who  was  stationed  at  Penang,  engaged  two 
saddle-ponies  for  us,  and  dispatched  them  in  advance,  to  await 
as  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  while  we  proceeded  thither  in  a 
garree.  The  road  was  admirable,  and  the  Malay  groom,  run- 
ning at  the  pony's  head,  propelled  him  forwards  even  too  fast 
for  our  liking.  The  purity  of  the  air,  t'  e  cloudless  beauty  of 
the  day,  and  ihe  glorious  groves  of  bain  and  bloom-^-of  deep 
green  shades,   and  glossy  lustres,  and  gorgeous  coloring— 


PENANO TROPICAL    FORESTS.  281 

chrongh  which  we  drove,  have  never  been  surpassed,  in  all  m^ 
experience  of  the  tropics.  I  thought  then,  and  I  think  so 
still,  that  Penang  is  the  most  beautiful  island  in  the  world. 
The  dwellings  of  the  English  residents  are  large,  airy  bunga- 
ows,  embowered  in  gardens,  and  surrounded  by  groves  of 
cocoa  and  areca  palm,  the  nutmeg  and  bread-fruit  trees.  The 
native  town,  inhabited  by  Chinese  and  Malays,  is  small,  and 
lies  close  upon  the  water,  but  for  miles  around  it  extends  a  suc- 
cession of  beautiful  residences  and  rich  plantations,  reaching  to 
the  foot  of  the  hills.  The  Chinese  houses,  scattered  along  the 
road,  with  their  great  red  hieroglyphics,  and  the  queer,  solemn- 
ly-stupid yellow  faces  of  their  inmates,  catch  the  eye  of  the 
traveller  from  the  west,  and  tell  him  that  he  has  at  last  reached 
the  borders  of  the  Far  East. 

After  a  drive  of  four  miles,  we  entered  a  little  dell,  where 
a  stream  of  water,  stealing  through  the  woods,  fell  over  the 
rocks  in  a  miniature  cascade.  Several  lithe  Malay  youths 
were  bathing  in  the  shallow  pool  at  its  foot,  and  their  glowing 
\)rown  bodies  glistened  in  the  sun.  Here  we  mounted  our 
ponies,  and  commenced  the  ascent.  The  path  wound  back- 
wards and  forwards  through  dense  thickets,  between  banks 
covered  with  gigantic  fern,  till  it  attained  a  ridgy  spur  of  the 
mountain,  which  it  followed  upward  to  the  central  heights. 
We  soon  entered  the  forests,  which  gradually  became  so  dense 
and  dark  as  to  shut  out  every  ray  of  the  sun.  Trees  of  thick, 
glossy  foliage,  mingled  their  tops  a  hundred  feet  above  our 
heads,  and  in  their  shade  arose  a  luxuriant  undergrowth 
Ferns,  whose  fronds  were  frequently  from  ten  to  fifteen  feet  in 
length,  bent  their  arching  plumes  above  our  heads;  strange 
plants,  of  new  and  graceful  form,  clustered  od  either  hand,  ane 


282  QTDIA,   CHINA,    AHD    JAPAH. 

birds  of  bright  plumage  darted  in  and  out  of  the  foliage 
There  was  one,  hidden  in  thickest  shades,  whose  clear,  pro- 
longed, bell-like  note,  rang  continually  through  the  forest — & 
wild,  wizard  call,  which  overflowed  all  the  air,  and  was  taken 
ap  in  one  spot  as  soon  as  it  ceased  in  another. 

We  had  advanced  in  this  way  about  two  miles,  when  an 
opening  in  the  trees  disclosed  a  view  to  the  south,  into  the 
heart  of  a  valley  of  more  than  Arcadian  loveliness.  It  might 
have  been  three  miles  in  length  by  less  than  a  mile  in  breadth, 
and  the  orchards  of  palm,  orange  and  spice-trees  which  covered 
its  lap,  almost  concealed  the  dwellings  of  the  planters.  It  lay 
between  hills  of  billowy  green,  which,  uniting  at  the  farther 
end,  formed  a  gorge  or  gateway  of  forests,  through  which  shone 
the  dark-blue  sphere  of  the  sea.  It  was  a  landscape  from  the 
paradise  of  dreams,  basking  in  the  light  of  its  own  serene  and 
perfect  beauty.  As  I  looked  down  on  it  from  that  window  of 
the  region  of  shade,  I  could  have  believed  that  I  stood  on  the 
Delectable  Mountains,  and  that  the  valleys  of  the  Land  of 
Beulah  were  at  my  feet. 

Again  we  plunged  into  the  depth  of  the  forest,  and  after 
two  miles  more  of  climbing,  which  moistened  every  hair  in  th(> 
coats  of  our  sturdy  little  ponies,  reached  the  flag-staff,  2,500 
feet  above  the  sea.  Here  there  is  a  summer  residence  oi 
the  Governor,  and  half  a  dozen  private  bungalows.  The 
pure  air  of  the  heights,  with  the  refreshing  temperature, 
which  stands  at  from  70°  to  75°  during  the  whole  year,  make 
this  a  most  delightful  place  of  resort.  I  climbed  to  the  cross- 
trees  of  the  flag-staff  in  order  to  get  an  uninterrupted  view  oi 
the  wide  summer  panorama.  The  lowland  of  Penang,  with  its 
orchards  and  gardens,  lay  at  my  feet ;  across  the  strait  stretched 


A    PANORAMA.  283 


many  a  league  of  forest,  divided  here  and  there  by  the  gleam- 
ing windings  of  rivers,  and  far  back  in  the  vapory  distance 
arose  the  mountain  spine   of  the  Peninsula  of  Malacca.     To 
the  south  and  west,  over  scattered  island-cones   of  verdure, 
surved  a  great  hemisphere  of  sea,  behind  which,  hidden  by  the 
warm  noonday  haze,  were  the  mountains  of  Sumatra.     That 
part  of  the  peninsula  lying  opposite  to  Penang  has  been  ac- 
quired by  the  East  India  Company,  and  erected  into  a  pro- 
vince, with  the  title  of  Wellesley ;  further  south,  Malacca  and 
Singapore  are  English  dependencies ;  the  gap  between  Arracan 
and  Tenasserim  has  been  filled  up  by  the  recent  annexation  of 
Pegu,  and  now,  of  two  thousand  miles  of  coast  line  between 
Calcutta  and  Singapore,  there  are  not  more  than  two  hundred, 
to  which  the  English  title  is  still  wanting.     The  Anglo-Indian 
Empire  stretches  from  Beloochistan  to  the  China  Sea,     They 
now  talk  of  the  natural  boundaries  of  Burmah  as  obviating 
the  need  of  further  annexation  to  the  Eastward ;  but  when  did 
their  lust  of  aggrandizement  ever  heed  any  natural  boundary 
except  the  sea  ? 

On  our  return  to  the  ship  we  visited  a  nutmeg  plantation 
The  trees,  which  are  from  twenty  to  thirty  feet  in  height,  are 
planted  in  rows,  at  intervals  of  about  twenty  feet.  The  leaf 
is  dark  green  and  glossy,  resembling  that  of  the  laurel,  and  the 
fruit,  at  a  little  distance,  might  be  taken  for  a  small  russet- 
colored  apple.  When  ripe  the  thick  husk  splits  in  the  centre, 
ahowing  a  scarlet  net-work  of  mace,  enveloping  an  inner  nut, 
black  as  ebony,  the  kernel  of  which  is  the  nutmeg  of  commerce. 
The  clove-tree,  not  then  in  its  bearing  season,  has  some  re^ 
semblance  to  the  nutmeg,  but  the  leaf  is  smaller,  nnd  the  foliage 
more  loose  and  spreading.     Ab  we  drove  through  the  orchard 


284  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

the  warm  air  of  noon  was  heavy  with  spice.  The  rich  odoB 
exhaled  from  the  trees  penetrated  the  frame  with  a  sensatior 
of  languid  and  voluptuous  repose.  Perfume  became  an  appe- 
tite, and  the  senses  were  drugged  with  an  overpowering  feeling 
of  luxury.  Had  I  continued  to  indulge  in  it,  I  should  ere 
ong  have  realized  the  Sybarite's  complaint  of  his  crumpled 
rose-leaf. 

In  the  Strait  of  Malacca,  the  heat  was  rather  oppressive,  the 
thermometer  standing  at  88°  in  the  coolest  part  of  the  shij 
We  ran  down  within  sight  of  the  peninsula,  and  on  the  after 
no'on  after  leavinoj  Penanor  had  a  distant  view  of  the  town  of 
Malacca.  The  next  morning  I  went  on  deck,  just  in  time  to 
see  the  southern  extremity  of  the  Continent  of  Asia.  The  Pe- 
ninsula of  Malacca  tapered  away  to  a  slender  point,  complete- 
ly overgrown  with  palm  and  mangrove  trees,  which  rose  in 
heavy  masses  from  the  water's  edge.  At  the  end,  a  single 
cocoa-palm  stood  a  little  in  advance  of  its  fellows,  leaning  out- 
ward, as  if  looking  intently  across  the  Southern  Sea.  The 
water  was  smooth  and  glassy,  and  belts  of  a  paler  green  be- 
trayed the  hidden  banks  of  coral.  Island  after  island  arose  in 
the  distance,  until  we  were  inclosed  in  an  archipelago  of  never- 
fading  verdure.  They  were  tenanted  entirely  by  the  Malay 
races;  some  were  hilly  and  irregular  in  appearance,  while 
other  rose  like  green  cones  from  the  tranquil  sea.  The  Island 
of  Singapore,  which  we  were  approaching,  was  comparatively 
ow,  but  not  without  a  picturesque  beauty  in*  the  irregularity  of 
ts  shores.  The  strait  through  which  we  sailed  resembled  an 
inland  lake  rather  than  a  part  of  the  ocean,  for  the  islands  were 
SO  crowded  together  in  the  distance  as  quite  to  intercept  the 
«ea-horizoii.     Presently  we  entered  what  seemed  a  river — th< 


SINGAPORE CHINESE   POPULATION.  285 

narrow  strait  between  Singapore  and  a  small  adjacent  island, 
and  halted  alongside  a  large  wooden  pier,  in  what  is  called  the 
New  Harbor. 

The  town  of  Singapore  is  three  miles  distant,  but  as  the 
steamer  remained  twenty-four  hours  to  coal,  we  embarked  in 
garrees  drawn  by  Malay  ponies,  and  were  carried  straightway 
to  the  "  London  Hotel,  where  we  remained  until  next  day. 
The  town  is  purely  commercial,  and  has  grown  up  principally 
within  the  last  ten  or  fifteen  years.  The  population  is  esti- 
mated  at  40,000  or  50,000,  the  greater  part  of  whom  are 
Chinese.  There  are  several  of  their  pagodas  in  the  place,  and 
three  large  burying-grounds,  densely  populated,  in  the  vicinity. 
This  was  my  first  sight  of  a  large  Chinese  community,  and  the 
impression  it  left  was  not  agreeable.  Their  dull  faces,  without 
expression,  unless  a  coarse  glimmering  of  sensuality  may  be 
called  such,  and  their  half-naked,  unsymmetrical  bodies,  more 
like  figures  of  yellow  clay  than  warm  flesh  and  blood,  filled  me 
with  an  unconquerable  aversion.  The  scowling  Malay,  with 
his  dark,  fiery  eye,  and  spare  but  sinewy  form,  was  ennobled 
by  the  comparison,  and  I  turned  to  look  upon  him  with  a  great 
sense  of  relief. 

The  Island  of  Singapore  is  hilly  and  undulating,  although 
no  part  of  it  rises  more  than  500  feet  above  the  sea.  On  the 
eastern  side  of  the  town  is  the  English  suburb,  which  contains 
a  number  of  pleasant  residences.  The  Governor's  mansion  is 
delightfully  situated  on  a  hill  above,  commanding  a  fine  view 
of  the  harbor,  and  the  large  island  of  Bintang  in  the  distance. 
The  hills  around  it  are  covered  with  turf  as  fresh  and  green  as 
that  of  England.  The  temperature  of  the  island,  which  lies  in 
1°    18^    N.,    is   healthy   and   agreeable,    and   scarcely   varies 


286 

tlirongbout  the  whole  year.  The  vegetation  is  kept  constanl 
ly  fresh  and  luxuriant  by  frequent  showers.  The  interior  ol 
the  island  is  covered  with  plantations  of  pepper  and  nutmeg. 
The  depredations  eommitted  by  tigers  are  said  to  be  frightful, 
since  in  spite  of  a  government  bounty  for  their  destruction, 
more  than  three  hundred  persons  are  annually  devoured  by 
them. 

We  left  Singapore  on  the  morning  of  the  9th,  and  after 
passing  the  island  of  Bintang,  entered  the  China  Sea.  Not- 
withstanding it  was  the  season  of  the  north-east  monsoon,  we 
were  favored  with  calm  weather  and  clear  skies.  During  the 
first  two  days  we  passed  Pulo  Aor,  and  the  barren  groups  of 
the  Anambas  and  Natunas,  after  which  nothing  occurred  to 
break  the  monotony  of  the  voyage,  until  the  morning  of  the 
16th,  when  in  the  midst  of  a  thick  and  rainy  gale  from  the 
north,  which  came  up  suddenly  during  the  night,  we  made 
the  rocks  called  the  Asses'  Ears,  off  the  Ladrone  Islands,  at 
the  mouth  of  the  Gulf  of  Canton.  We  got  shelter  from  the 
heavy  swell  under  the  lee  of  the  Lemma  Island,  and  as  the 
clouds  broke  away  a  little,  saw  before  us  the  barren  hills  of 
Hong  Kons  In  two  hours  more  we  were  at  anchor  in  the 
'larbor. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

VOrAQE  UP  THE  COAST  OP  OHIHA. 

Prip  to  Macao— Attached  to  the  U.  8.  Embassy— On  Board  the  Steam-frigate  Snsqne 
hanna— Departure  from  Macao— The  Coast  of  China^The  Shipwrecked  Japanese- > 
Their  Address  to  the  Commissioner— The  Eastern  Sea— The  Archipelago  of  Chnsaii 
—The  Mouth  of  the  Tang-tse-Kiang— The  Steamer  Aground- Rumors  of  the  Reb- 
els— Arrival  at  Woosung— Entering  the  Woosung  River— Chinese  Junks— Appear- 
ance of  the  Country — Approach  to  Shanghai— ArrivaL 

On  arriving  at  Hong  Kong,  one  of  my  fellow-passengers  en- 
tared  my  name  at  the  Club  House,  a  part  of  which  was  fitted 
up  as  a  hotel.  The  weather  was  cold,  raw  and  cloudy,  and  I 
spent  the  greater  part  of  my  time  in-doors,  reading  the  late  files 
of  European  journals.  The  U.  S.  steam-frigate  Susquehaima 
was  lying  in  the  harbor,  ready  to  sail  for  Macao,  and  as  I  de- 
sired  to  visit  Canton,  I  accepted  Capt.  Buchanan's  invitation 
to  cross  in  her  to  the  former  place,  whence  I  could  take  the 
Canton  steamer.  She  left  Hong  Kong  on  the  morning  of  the 
^Oth,  and  after  a  pleasant  run  of  four  hours  anchored  in  Macao 
Roads.  I  went  ashore,  expecting  to  proceed  to  Canton  on  the 
morrow:  but  no  one  knows  what  a  day  may  bring  forth. 
Upon  calling  on  the  U.  S.  Commissioner,  the  Hon.  Humphrey 


288  INDIA,   CHINA,   AND    JAPAN 

Marshall,  to  whom  I  had  letters,  he  generously  offered  to  attach 
me  to  the  Embassy,  that  I  might  be  able  to  accompany  him  to 
the  seat  of  war  in  the  North.  So  rare  an  opportunity  of  see 
ing  the  most  interesting  portion  of  China  during  the  present 
remarkable  crisis  in  the  history  of  the  Empire  was  not  to  be 
neglected ;  and  on  the  following  morning  I  again  found  myseli 
on  board  the  Susquehanna,  listening  to  the  thunders  of  the  sa- 
lute which  welcomed  the  Commissioner.  It  was  worth  all  my 
long  wanderings  in  foreign  lands  and  among  strange  races,  to 
experience  the  pride  and  satisfaction  of  walking  the  deck  of  a 
national  vessel,  and  hearing  again  the  stirring  music  of  our  na- 
tional airs.  One  must  drink  deep  of  absence  and  exile  to  learr 
the  tenderness  of  that  regard  for  his  native  land,  which  at 
home  lies  latent  and  unsuspected  at  the  bottom  of  his  nature. 
I  want  no  man  for  a  friend,  whose  heart  will  not  beat  more 
warmly  at  the  sight  of  his  country's  banner  floating  on  a  dis- 
tant sea. 

The  handsome  stem-cabin  of  the  Susquehanna  was  appro- 
priated to  the  use  of  the  Commissioner,  and  his  suite,  consisting 
of  Dr.  Peter  Parker,  Secretary  of  Legation,  Mr.  0.  H.  Perry 
Private  Secretary,  and  myself.  Wo  found  in  Capt.  Buchanan 
the  Commander,  all  that  his  reputation  as  a  gentleman  and  a 
brave  and  gallant  officer,  led  us  to  anticipate ;  while  the  officers 
under  his  command  justified  the  high  opinion  I  had  formed  of 
our  naval  corps,  from  the  few  whom  it  had  previously  been  my 
good  fortune  to  meet.  Under  such  auspices,  our  voyage  up 
the  coast  of  China  was  one  of  the  most  agreeable  I  ever 
made. 

We  left  Macao,  about  nine  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  the 
21st,  and  stood  outward  to  sea,  past  the  Lemma  Island.     The 


THE   COAST    OF   CHINA.  289 

day  was  warm  and  calm,  and  the  barren  Chinese  coast  was 
anobscured  by  cloud  or  vapor.  It  is  a  bold,  rugged  shore,  in^ 
dented  with  small  bays  and  estuaries,  and  bounded  by  a  fringe 
of  lofty  island-rocks,  which  are  for  the  most  part  uninhabitable. 
In  its  general  features,  it  resembles  the  coast  of  California,  but 
ia  in  reality  more  sterile,  though  hardly  more  so  in  appear- 
ance. Towards  evening  we  saw  the  promontory  called  Breaker 
Point  in  the  distance,  and  during  the  night  passed  within  half 
a  mile  of  the  Lamock  Islands.  The  next  morning  was  dull 
and  overcast.  We  were  already  within  the  Straits  of  Fu-kien, 
or  the  Formosa  Channel,  as  it  is  now  called,  and  had  a  strong 
head-wind.  During  the  day  we  had  occasional  glimpses  of  the 
islands  and  promontories  of  the  coast,  on  our  left,  but  too  dark 
and  indistinct  to  be  satisfactory.  About  noon,  we  passed  the 
headland  of  Quemoy,  north  of  the  Bay  of  Amoy,  which  is  one 
of  the  five  ports  opened  to  foreigners  by  the  English  war.  Its 
commerce,  however,  is  next  to  nothing,  nearly  all  the  foreign 
trade  being  concentrated  at  Canton  and  Shanghai. 

On  Monday  afternoon  the  thirteen  shipwrecked  Japanese 
sailors,  who,  having  been  picked  up  at  sea  and  taken  into  San 
Francisco,  were  sent  to  China  by  the  order  of  our  Govern- 
ment, and  placed  on  board  the  Susquehanna,  were  summoned 
in  a  body  upon  the  quarter-deck  to  pay  their  respects  to  the 
"  big  mandarin,"  as  they  termed  Col.  Marshall.  They  made  a 
7ery  profound  inclination  of  the  head,  removing  their  caps  at 
the  same  time.  Dr.  Parker  addressed  them  in  Chinese,  which 
ihey  did  not  understand  when  spoken;  but  as  the  Chinese 
characters  are  known  to  the  Japanese  (the  same  character  sig- 
nifying the  same  word  in  both  languages),  he  was  enabled  to 
communicate  with  them.  They  appeared  cheerful  and  in  good 
13 


290  nSTDIA,   CHINA,    AND    JAPAfi. 

condition.  They  were  nearly  all  dressed  in  sailor  costum^ 
with  clothes  which  the  officers  and  men  had  given  them.  It 
was  curious  to  note  the  variety  of  feature,  form  and  expression 
among  these  men,  all  of  whom  belonged  to  the  same  class 
There  was  one  with  an  unusually  broad  face  and  dark  com- 
plexion, who  corresponded  to  Golownin's  description  of  the 
Kurile  inhabitants  of  the  northern  portion  of  the  Empire. 
They  wore  their  hair  short  upon  the  crown  and  front  of  the 
head,  but  hanging  loose  and  long  at  the  back  and  sides,  which 
Dr.  Parker  declared  to  have  been  the  former  Chinese  custom, 
shaven  heads  and  long  tails  having  been  introduced  by  the 
Mantchow  Dynasty.  The  features  of  these  Japanese  were 
much  better  than  those  of  the  corresponding  class  of  Chinese. 
The  day  following  their  presentation  a  note  written  in  Chinese 
characters  was  addressed  by  them  to  CoL  Marshall  It  was 
very  fragmentary  and  laconic,  owing,  no  doubt,  to  the  small 
stock  of  characters  in  the  writer's  possession.  It  was  addressed 
on  the  envelope:  "To  the  American  King — from  thirteen 
Japanese,"  and  the  contents  were  as  follows :  ''  We,  thirteen 
Japanese  men,  have  fathers,  mothers,  young  brothers,  old 
brothers,  wives,  children.  You  go  to  Shanghai :  go  to  Japan!" 
On  Wednesday  we  continued  to  advance  against  a  strong 
head-wind,  catching  but  few  and  cloudy  glimpses  of  the  coast 
During  the  day  we  passed  the  mouth  of  the  estuary  of  Foo« 
chow-foo,  another  of  the  five  ports.  Before  night,  we  had 
passed  through  the  Formosa  Channel,  and  were  in  the  Tong-hai, 
or  Eastern  Sea,  which  is  bounded  by  China,  Corea,  the  Japanese 
Island  of  Kiusiu,  and  the  Lew-Chew  Archipelago.  The  next 
oaorning  we  were  off  the  province  of  Che-Kiang.  Soon  after 
wmrise  we  mjvie  a  small  island  called  the  Straw-Stack,  and  still 


THE  ARCHIPELAGO  OF  CHUSAN.  291 

fortlier,  a  headland  called  Mushroom  Peak,  from  its  shape,  the 
sides  being  perpendicular,  and  the  summit  slightly  projecting 
over  them.  At  the  other  extremity  of  the  same  promontory 
there  was  a  tall  isolated  rock  resembling  a  pagoda.  The  af 
temoon  was  raw  and  foggy,  and  as  there  was  a  large  number  of 
fishing  junks  off  the  coast,  our  steam-whistle  was  blown  repeat 
edly,  as  a  signal  for  them  to  get  out  of  the  way. 

On  Friday  there  was  a  dense  fog,  with  frequent  showers  ot 
rain,  and  we  saw  no  land  until  evening,  when  we  made  the 
rocks  called  the  Brothers,  at  the  eastern  end  of  the  Archipelago 
of  Chusan.  We  had  had  no  observation  for  a  day  or  two,  but 
when  the  fog  lifted  and  showed  the  rocks,  we  were  not  a  mile 
from  our  supposed  position.  The  night  set  in  dark  and  stormy, 
and  as  the  tides  and  currents,  which  prevail  in  this  part  of  the 
Archipelago,  are  very  uncertain,  we  felt  our  way  in  the  fog 
into  a  strait  between  the  islands  of  Chusan  and  Chinsan,  and 
came  to  anchor  under  the  lee  of  the  latter.  It  blew  violently 
during  the  night,  but  the  gale  had  the  effect  of  clearing  away 
the  fog,  so  that  we  were  able  to  get  under  way  again  at  daylight. 

We  rounded  the  eastern  point  of  Chinsan,  and  running  in  a 
Qorth-west  course,  soon  made  the  two  groups  called  the  Rug 
ged  Islands  and  Parker's  Islands.  The  water  became  yellow 
and  muddy,  showing  that  we  were  already  within  the  influence 
of  the  great  Yang-tse-Kiang  River,  and  when  scarcely  abreast 
the  southern  entrance,  it  was  as  turbid  as  the  Mississippi  at 
New  Orleans.  The  volume  of  water  brought  down  by  the  river 
must  be  enormous ;  the  southern  mouth,  which  comprises  about 
two  thirds,  or  less,  of  the  main  stream,  is  thirty  miles  in 
breadth.  Parker's  Island  was  green  and  beautiftd,  and  ap 
peared  to  be  cultivated.     Most  of  the  other  islands  were  lofty. 


292  INDIA,  cnnrA,  ahb  japan. 

rugged,  as  their  name  denotes,  and  hopelessly  barren.  The 
smaller  ones  were  mere  rocks,  cleft  and  divided  by  deep 
chasms,  like  those  on  the  western  coast  of  Scotland.  The  wind 
ivas  keen,  cold,  and  strong  from  the  north,  and  the  thermome- 
ter down  to  60°.  The  sky  was  a  cool,  pale  blue,  veiled  with 
haze,  but  the  sun  shone  cheerily  at  intervals.  As  we  ap 
proached  our  destination,  the  Japanese  desired  another  inter- 
view with  the  Commissioner.  It  was  intimated  that  they 
wished  to  land  at  Shanghai,  make  their  way  to  Chapoo,  the 
Chinese  port  of  communication  with  Nagasaki,  and  embark  in 
a  junk  for  the  latter  place,  Chapoo  is  south  of  Shanghai,  on 
the  Bay  of  Hang-Chow,  and  about  ninety  miles  distant. 

At  noon  we  reached  Gutzlaff  Island,  at  the  mouth  of  the 
Yang-tse-Kiang  (Son  of  the  Sea),  and  commenced  the  difficult 
navigation  of  the  river.  The  island  is  a  round,  rocky  hillock, 
rising  210  feet  from  the  water.  From  its  prominence,  and 
position  at  the  mouth  of  the  river,  it  is  a  valuable  landmark 
for  vessels.  The  Yang-tse-Kiang  is  here  about  twenty  miles 
broad,  flowing  between  the  mainland  of  China,  and  the  large 
island  of  Tsung-Ming.  Both  shores  are  a  dead  level,  dyked 
to  prevent  inundation,  like  the  banks  of  the  lower  Mississippi, 
and  not  to  be  seen  from  the  narrow  channel  in  the  middle  of 
the  river,  which  is  lined  on  both  sides  by  extensive  sand-banks. 
We  had  a  strong  wind  and  tide  against  us,  and  did  not  lose 
Bight  of  Gutzlaff  Island  until  near  four  o'clock.  The  water 
became  more  dense  and  yellow  as  we  proceeded,  and  the  pad- 
dles of  the  steamer  stirred  up  large  quantities  of  the  soft  mud 
of  the  bottom.  The  depth  of  the  stream  varied  from  four  ti 
fire  fathoms. 

At  six  o'clock,  as  the  crew  was  beaten  to  quarters,  it  was 


THE    FRIGATE    AGROUND.  298 

DOtieed  that  the  engines  moved  sluggishly,  and  soon  afterwards 
fchc  ship  refused  to  obey  her  helm.  She  was  immediately 
stopped;  and  a  careful  sounding  showed  only  two  and  three 
quartei  fathoms.  The  previous  sounding  had  been  disturbed 
by  the  wake  of  the  wheel,  and  tlie  sinking  of  the  lead  into  the 
oose  mud,  so  that  we  had  run  about  half  a  mile  upon  the 
South  Shoal  before  being  aware  of  it.  The  engines  were 
backed,  but  the  strong  northern  gale  and  ebb  tide  kept  us  sta- 
tionary for  about  an  hour,  after  which  the  ship  began  to  move 
by  fits  and  starts.  The  guns  were  run  forward  to  lighten  her 
stern,  and  the  tide  setting  in  her  favor,  she  worked  herself  off 
by  nine  o'clock,  and  came  to  anchor  in  deep  water. 

We  started  again  the  next  morning,  with  the  flood  tide. 
The  day  was  crystal-clear,  and  a  bracing  wind  blew  from  the 
north-east.  In  an  hour  or  two  we  were  hailed  by  an  American 
pilot,  who  had  been  taking  a  French  vessel  out  of  the  river. 
He  startled  us  with  the  news  that  the  rebels  had  invested 
Nanking  with  an  army  of  200,000  men,  captured  all  the 
Chinese  war-junks  in  the  Yang-tse-Kiang,  and  cut  off  supplies 
from  the  beleaguered  troops — with  many  other  particulars, 
which,  like  all  rumors  afloat  at  that  time,  were  greatly  exagge- 
rated. In  another  hour  the  mainland  of  China  was  visible  on 
our  left — a  low  shore,  covered  with  trees,  and  dotted  with  the 
houses  of  the  natives.  Numbers  of  junks  were  anchored  along 
the  beach,  and  the  wreck  of  a  European  vessel  toid  of  the 
dangers  of  the  navigation.  The  island  of  T^ang-Ming  was 
barely  visible  to  the  east.  We  reached  the  mouth  of  the 
Woosung  River  about  noon,  and  cast  anchor  a  mile  from  the 
shore,  to  wait  for  a  tide  to  carry  us  over  the  bar.  On  making 
signals,  a  junk  came  out  for  the  mails,  with  which  she  started 


294  INDIA,    CHIHA,    AND    JAPAV 

at  once  for  Shanghai  The  mouth  of  the  river  "was  jrowdec] 
with  vessels,  the  greater  part  of  which  were  native  junks. 
The  stream  is  about  half  a  mile  in  breadth,  and  is  protected  hy 
two  batteries,  the  northern  one  having  126  guns.  The  shore  if 
well  wooded,  and  the  trees,  with  their  thin  texture  and  the 
greenish-gray  hue  of  their  budding  leaves,  showed  that  we  had 
again  reached  a  climate  where  spring  is  known. 

Mr.  P.  S.  Forbes,  U.  S.  Consul  at  Canton,  and  Mr.  Cun- 
ningham, Vice-Consul  at  Shanghai,  who  had  ridden  down  to 
Woosung  in  expectation  of  the  Susquehanna's  arrival,  came  or 
board  shortly  after  we  dropped  anchor.  At  4  P.  M.,  the  tide 
being  again  flood,  we  stood  into  the  river  through  the  fleet  of 
junk  sat  its  mouth.  It  was  a  delicate  piece  of  manoeuvring, 
but  the  vessel  minded  her  helm  admirably,  and  threaded  the 
mazes  of  the  crowded  anchorage  without  touching  one  of  the 
craft.  The  tide  carried  us  safely  over  the  bar,  and  we  kept  on 
up  the  river  at  nearly  our  full  speed.  The  stream  was  covered 
with  junks  lying  at  anchor  or  sailing  up  and  down.  Our 
steam-whistle  warned  them  to  clear  the  track,  and  they  obeyed 
with  alacrity,  the  crews  gathering  upon  the  high  poops  to  sur- 
vey us  as  we  passed.  Most  of  the  junks  had  inscriptions 
across  the  stern  and  along  the  sides  of  the  hull.  Some,  which 
Dr.  Parker  read,  denoted  that  the  vessel  was  in  Government 
service :  others  had  fantastic  names,  such  as  "  The  Favorable 
Wind,"  "  Happiness,"  &c.  All  the  larger  ones  had  four  masts, 
each  mast  carrying  a  single  oblong  sail,  made  of  very  closely 
woven  matting,  crossed  with  horizontal  slips  of  bamboo,  so 
that  it  could  be  reefed  to  any  extent  required.  The  people  had 
ft  lighter  complexion   and  more  regular   features  than   tht 


SHORES    OP   THE   WOOStING   RIVER 


295 


natives  of  the  southeni  provinces,  and  in  lieu  of,  the  nmhiella 
hat  wore  the  round  black  cap  of  the  Tartars. 

The  country  on  both  sides  of  the  river  is  a  dead  level  ot 
rich  alluvial  soil,  devoted  principally  to  the  culture  of  rice  and 
wheat.     The  cultivation  was  as  thorough  and  patient  as  any  I 
had  seen,  every  square  foot  being  turned  to  some  useful  ac- 
count.    Even  the  sides  of  the  dykes  erected  to  check  inunda- 
tions  were  covered  with  vegetables.     These  boundless  levels  are 
thickly  studded  with  villages  and  detached  houses,  all  of  which 
are  surrounded  with  fruit-trees.     I  noticed  also  occasionally 
groves  of  willow  and  bamboo.     The  country,  far  and  wide,  is 
dotted  with   little   mounds  of  earth — the  graves  of  former 
generations.     They  are  scattered  over  the  fields  and  gardens 
in  a  most  remarkable  manner,  to  the  great  detriment  of  the 
cultivators.     In  some  places  the  coffins  of  the  poor,  who  cannot 
afford  to  purchase  a  resting-place,  are  simply  deposited  upon 
the  ground,  and  covered  with  canvas.     The  dwellings,  but  for 
their  peaked  roofs,  bore  some  resemblance  to  the  cottages  of 
the  Irish  peasantry.     They  were  mostly  of  wood,  plastered  and 
whitewashed,   and  had  an  appearance  of  tolerable  comfort 
The  people,  who  came  out  to  stare  in  wonder  at  the  great 
Bteamer  as  she  passed,  were  dressed  uniformly  in  black  or 
dark  blue.     Numerous  creeks  and  canals  extended  from  the 
river  into  the  plains,  but  I  did  not  notice  a  single  highway. 
The  landscape  was  rich,  picturesque  and  animated,  and  fully 
corresponded  with  what  I  had  heard  of  the  dense  population 
and  careful  agriculture  of  China.     I  was  struck  with  the  gene« 
ral  resemblance  between  the  Woosung  and  the  lower  Missisr 
fdpp',  and  the  same  thing  was  noticed  by  others  on  board. 
Before  sunset,  we  discovered  in  the  distance  the  factoriei 


296  IKDIA^    CHINA,    ANT    JAPAM. 

and  flagstaffs  of  Shanghai.  The  town  had  a  more  imposing 
appearance  than  I  was  prepared  to  find.  The  river  makes  a 
sharp  bend  to  the  south-west  at  this  point,  and  over  the  tops  of 
the  trees  on  the  southern  bank,  we  could  see  a  forest  of  masts, 
a  mile  in  length,  belonging  to  the  native  junks.  The  numbei 
of  foreign  vessels  anchored  before  the  factories  did  not  exceed 
twenty.  Rounding  the  point,  we  swept  between  the  shipping,  past 
the  stately  row  of  tall  European  residences,  and  a  neat  church 
(Gothic),  to  the  reach  in  front  of  the.  American  Consulate,  one 
of  the  largest  and  handsomest  buildings  on  the  river.  The 
English  war-steamers  Hermes  and  Salamander,  and  the  brig 
Lily,  lay  anchored  there,  and  the  French  war-steamer  Cassini, 
a  little  further  up  the  stream.  Beyond  them  commenced  the 
wilderness  of  junks,  packed  side  by  side  in  one  unbroken  mass. 
As  the  anchor  dropped  our  band  struck  up  "  Hail  Columbia  " 
followed  by  the  English  and  French  national  airs. 

Mr.  Cunningham  invited  the  Commissioner  and  his  suite  to 
take  rooms  at  the  Consulate,  where  that  splendid  hospitality 
which  distinguishes  the  foreign  communities  in  China  is  prac- 
tised to  its  fullest  extent.  We  found  various  and  contradictory 
rumors  afloat  with  regard  to  the  Chinese  rebels,  but  it  was  gen- 
erally believed  that  Nanking  had  fallen  into  their  hands.  The 
merchants  were  in  hourly  expectation  of  hearing  tJiat  the  great 
city  of  Soo-Chow,  the  capital  of  the  silk-growing  district,  and 
only  seventy  miles  from  Shanghai,  had  been  invested. 


CHAPTER    XXiy. 

AN     ATTEMPT     TO     VISIT     NANKING 

I  he  Commlss'oner  decides  to  visit  Nanking— Preparations  for  the  Voyage — Departun 
of  four  Japanese — The  Susquehanna  leaves — Woosung — Bush  Island  and  Tsuuf 
Mtng— We  strike  the  Blonde  Shoal— The  Chinese  Pilots— Escape  of  a  Boat— Off  thfl 
Shoal— Mr.  Bennett's  night  cruise  after  the  Boats— Unfavorable  Eeports— The  Re- 
turn—End of  the  Expedition— Successful  Trip  of  the  Susquehanna  In  the  Summer 
of 1854 

Three  days  after  our  arrival,  the  Commissioner  decided  U 
start  for  Nanking.  The  near  approach  of  the  rebel  forces  to 
the  foreign  settlement  of  Shanghai,  the  uncertainty  with  regard 
to  their  views  towards  foreigners,  and  the  utter  impossibility  of 
obtaining  reliable  accounts  from  the  seat  of  war  through  th€ 
Chinese  authorities,  led  him  to  this  step.  The  visit  was  pro- 
jected with  the  sole  view  of  obtaining  information,  that  he 
might  best  know  how  to  guard  the  interests  of  American  citi- 
Eens  in  China.  Like  the  representatives  of  England  and 
France  in  Shanghai,  he  determined  on  preserving  the  strictest 
neutrality  during  the  civil  war  then  raging  in  the  North.  But 
if,  as  all  accounts  concurred  in  representing,  Nanking  had 
already  fallen,  it  was  a  matter  of  importance  that  the  rebel 
leaders  should  be  assured  of  this  neutrality  and  of  the 
13* 


298  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

necessity,  on  their  part,  of  respecting  the  rights  of  foreign 
citizens.  The  adoption  of  this  course  was  rendered  still  more 
imperative  by  the  falsehoods  which  the  Chinese  authorities^ 
and  especially  the  Taou-tai  (G-overnor)  of  Shanghai  had  pub 
Ushed  and  circulated  concerning  the  enlistment  of  foreign  aid. 

Two  hundred  tons  of  coal  were  taken  on  board  the  Susque- 
hanna, and  application  was  made  to  the  Taou-tai  for  native 
pilots  who  knew  the  river.  These  he  readily  furnished,  hoping 
perhaps  that  our  appearance  off  Nanking  would  be  interpreted 
to  the  advantage  of  the  Imperialists.  Hundreds  of  Chinese 
continued  to  visit  the  Susquehanna  up  to  the  hour  of  her  de 
parture.  Several  of  the  American  residents  made  application 
to  accompany  us  on  the  voyage,  but,  with  the  exception  of  Mr. 
Forbes,  no  other  passenger  was  taken  on  board.  Previous  to 
sailing,  four  of  the  Japanese  left  our  ship.  One  of  theii 
countrymen — one  of  those  who  were  turned  back  from  Japan 
m  the  Morrison,  in  1837 — ^was  then  residing  in  Shanghai, 
and  he  promised  to  assist  them.  Neither  Capt.  Buchanan 
nor  the  Commissioner  had  any  authority  to  keep  them  on 
board.  They  desired  their  countryman,  Otokitchi,  to  say  that 
they  thanked  the  officers  and  men  of  the  ship  from  their  hearts, 
and  would  never  forget  their  kindness  toward  them.  Two  of 
them  wept  like  children  when  they  left. 

We  started  at  floodtide,  on  the  afternoon  of  the  Ist  of 
April.  The  bund,  or  quay,  of  Shanghai  was  crowded  with 
spectators  of  our  departure.  We  were  two  hours  and  a  half 
reaching  Woosung.  The  rich  plains  on  either  hand  were 
greener  and  more  beautiful  than  they  appeared  on  the  passage 
up.  The  willow  trees  planted  along  the  nmnerons  little  canals 
intersecting  the  country  were  rapidly  bursting  into  leaf.     In 


BUSH   ISLAND    AND    TSUNG-MING.  299 

Spite  of  these  tokens  of  spring,  a  keen,  benumbing  wind  blew 
from  the  north-east,  and  the  cabin  was  not  comfortable  without 
fire.  There  Is  perhaps  no  other  part  of  the  world  where  spring 
is  so  tardy.  We  crossed  the  bar  without  difficulty,  but  after- 
wards had  to  thread  a  fleet  of  junks,  filling  up  a  reach  of  moYi\ 
than  half  a  mile.  This  feat  was  admirably  managed,  without 
running  afoul  of  any  of  the  craft,  though  the  winding  channels 
between  them  were  scarcely  broader  than  our  beam.  The 
Susquehanna  obeyed  her  helm  as  readily  as  a  ferry-boat.  We 
anchored  for  the  night  in  the  main  channel  of  the  Yang-tse- 
Kiang,  a  mile  from  shore. 

At  daybreak,  the  ten  Chinese  boats  which  had  been 
engaged  for  the  purpose  of  going  ahead  to  feel  the  channel, 
started  in  advance.  We  hove  anchor  and  left  at  seven  o'clock. 
The  four  Chinese  pilots  were  on  deck,  seemingly  confident  of 
their  ability  to  carry  us  through.  Just  above  Woosung,  we 
passed  Bush  Island ;  the  large  island  of  Tsung-Ming,  separat- 
bg  the  northern  and  southern  mouths  of  the  Yang-tse-Kiang, 
was  visible  beyond  it  in  the  distance.  '  Both  of  these  islands 
have  been  formed  from  the  alluvial  deposits  of  the  river,  and 
are  yearly  increasing  in  size.  Capt.  Potter  (an  American 
pilot,  who  accompanied  us)  informed  me  that  ten  years  ago 
there  was  but  one  bush  on  the  smaller  island  (whence  its 
Dame),  and  not  an  inhabitant.  At  present  it  is  covered  with 
trees  and  thickly  studded  with  cottages.  Tsung-Ming,  a  cen. 
tury  ago,  was  a  sand-bar ;  at  present  it  supports  a  population 
of  six  hundred  thousand.  The  immense  deposits  brought 
down  by  the  Yang-tse-Kiang,  the  Hoang-Ho,  and  other  rivers 
must  in  the  course  of  time  entirely  fill  up  the  mouth  of  the 
\rellow  Sea. 


300  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND   JAPAli. 

Our  mosquito  fleet  was  still  visible,  running  rapidly  ahead 
with  the  monsoon  filling  their  square  sails,  and  I  was  looking 
through  a  telescope   at   the   clusters   of    Chinese   who    were 
watching  us   from  the  shore,  when  the  ship  suddenly  struck 
iipcn  a  shoal.     She   was  only  going   at  half-speed,  and   the 
engine  was  stopped  soon  enough  to  prevent  her  jamming  very 
hard  upon  the  sand.     Still,  there  she  stuck,  and  as  the  ebb-tide 
had  just  commenced,  every  efifort  was  made  to  get  her  off  be- 
fore the  water  fell.     There  were  fourteen  feet  at  the  bows,  and 
three  and  one  fourth  fathoms  at  the  stern :  the  bottom  hard 
sand.     The  wheels  were  backed  and  a  hawser  sent  out  over 
the  stern,  to  warp  her  off,  but  without  avail.     The  place  where 
we  struck  proved  to  be  the  Blonde  Shoal,  twelve  or  fifteen  miles 
from  Woosung.     The  accident  was  entirely  owing  to  the  care- 
lessness or  treachery  of  the  principal  Chinese  pilot.     We  had 
boats  enoudi  to  have  sounded  out  for  us  all  the  shoals  as  fax 
as  Harvey's  Point,  but  he  insisted  on  sending   them  ahead, 
saying  that  he  was  perfectly  familiar  with  the  channel,  and  did 
not  require  their  services  for  a  hundred  li  (thirty  miles)  fur- 
ther.    He  put  on  an  offensive,  stately  air,  and  carried  his  head 
high  until  chastised  by  Mr.   Cunningham's  comprador,  who 
accompanied  us  as  interpreter  and  commissary.    The  latter,  on 
receiving  an   impertinent  reply  to  a  question  which  he  had 
asked  by  command  of  Capt.  Buchanan,  immediately  struck  the 
^ilot  in  the  face,  and  brought  him  to  his  knees  in  supplication. 
When  it  was  found  we  could  not  get  off,  Capt.  Buchanan 
determined  to  send  the  Chinese  bum-boat,  which  accompanied 
us,  ahead  to  the  other  boats,  with  one  of  the  pilots.     But  the 
men,  instead  of  keeping  up  the  river,  immediately   made  all 
speed  for  the  shore.     One  of  the  brass  field-pieces  was  hauled 


GETTING   OFF   THE   SHOAL.  301 

to  the  stern,  brought  to  bear  on  her,  and  a  few  shots  fired 
across  her  bows,  in  order  to  bring  her  back,  but  she  continued 
to  make  away,  although  the  balls  ploughed  up  the  sea  just  be- 
yond her.  It  happened  that  the  pilot  was  not  on  board,  as 
wap  supposed,  but  had  remained  with  us,  though  in  great  fear 
for  his  life.  Mr.  Bennett,  Master  of  the  Susquehanna,  was 
then  sent  off  for  the  pilots,  in  one  of  the  ship's  cutters  At 
ebb-tide  we  had  but  eight  feet  water  under  our  bows  and 
seventeen  under  the  stern. 

At  midnight  on  Saturday  night  it  began  to  blow  very 
violently  from  the  north,  so  that  about  five  o'clock,  when  the 
tide  had  risen  a  few  feet,  the  vessel  seemed  to  be  slowly  work 
ing  herself  loose.  The  foresail  was  bent  on,  and  she  immedi- 
ately gave  evidence  of  feeling  it.  A  few  backward  strokes  of 
the  wheels  urged  her  clear  of  the  shoal,  and  she  hung  buoy- 
antly in  deep  water.  But  in  the  distance  of  a  few  ship's 
lengths  the  water  suddenly  shoaled  again,  and  she  was  brought 
to  anchor  in  five  fathoms,  with  some  little  difficulty.  The 
utter  inefficiency  of  the  pilots  was  again  displayed  by  their  de- 
claring that  the  channel  was  on  the  right  of  the  shoal,  when 
our  own  soundings  the  day  previous  had  shown  that  it  was  on 
the  left  side. 

About  eight  o'clock,  Mr.  Bennett  made  his  appearance  in 
the  cutter.  He  and  his  crew  were  benumbed  with  cold,  hav* 
insr  passed  the  whole  night  on  the  river.  After  running  about 
twenty  miles,  he  stood  in  toward  Harvey's  Point,  at  the  north- 
ern extremity  of  Tsung-Ming,  where  the  fleet  was  to  have 
waited ;  but  on  inquiring  of  some  fishermen,  learned  that  it 
had  gone  further  up  the  river.  About  ten  miles  further,  he 
fonnd  the  junks  at  anchor  in  a  creek,  on  the  southern  bank 


302  INDIA,   CHOTA,   AHD   JAPAN. 

By  the  time  they  were  collected  together,  it  was  ten  o'clock  at 
night.  Capt.  Potter  and  the  comprador  went  on  board  tha 
boats,  which  were  ordered  to  follow  the  cutter^  and  return  to 
the  Susquehanna.  They  all  got  under  way  at  the  same  time, 
bui  in  the  darkness  of  the  night  the  cutter  soon  lost  sight  of 
them  She  grounded  repeatedly  on  the  shoals,  and  finally  got 
entangled  among  the  bamboo  fishing-stakes.  The  sea  continu- 
ing to  rise,  and  the  gale  to  blow  more  violently,  she  waa 
obliged  to  come  to  anchor  until  morning,  when  she  put  off 
again  and  beat  down  to  us.  Capt.  Buchanan  and  the  Com- 
missioner decided,  on  hearing  Mr.  Bennett's  report,  that  it 
was  expedient  to  return  to  Woosung.  The  necessity  of  put- 
ting back  was  keenly  regretted  by  all  on  board,  but  the  ex- 
treme peril  to  which  the  vessel  was  exposed,  in  case  the  voy* 
age  was  continued,  left  no  other  alternative.  We  were  obliged 
to  wait  for  the  first  of  the  flood- tide,  to  run  down  to  Woosung, 
which  detained  us  until  four  o'clock.  In  the  mean  time,  Capt. 
Potter  and  the  comprador  arrived  with  the  other  boats.  The 
former  reported  that  no  dependence  could  be  placed  either  on 
the  chart  or  the  Chinese  pilots,  and  that  the  only  way  in 
which  the  Susquehanna  could  go  up  the  river,  would  be  to  re- 
survey  and  buoy  out  the  channel — a  work  which  could  not  be 
accomplished  in  less  than  two  weeks.  The  failure  of  our  un- 
dertaking, the  results  of  which  promised  to  be  of  great  interest 
and  importance  at  the  time,  is  another  proof  of  the  unfitness  of 
large  steam  frigates  for  the  service  required  in  Chinese  watera 
Two  small,  active  steamers,  such  as  the  English  possessed  iu 
the  Hermes  and  Salamander,  would  do  more  work  than  a  score 
of  unwieldy  leviathans. 

We  returned  down  the  river  the  way  we  came,  but  on  ap 


RETURN    TO    8HAHOHAI.  303 

proaching  Woosung  were  again  exposed  to  danger  throngh  the 
ignorance  of  the  pilots.  The  water  suddenly  shoaled,  in  spite  of 
their  assertion  that  we  were  in  the  deep  channel,  and  our  hull 
touched  just  as  the  engines  began  to  back  water.  We  got  off 
barely  in  time.  The  command  having  been  given  to  let  go  the 
starboard  anchor,  a  seaman,  who  was  standing  upon  the  port 
anchor,  mistaking  the  order,  and  thinking  it  was  about  to  drop 
with  him,  sprang  into  the  river.  He  was  picked  up,  however, 
with  no  other  injury  than  a  good  drenching. 

The  next  morning  we  were  delayed  for  some  time  in  cross- 
ing the  bar,  by  a  large  fleet  of  grain-junks,  bound  outward  or 
their  way  to  Pekin.  A  Portuguese  lorcha,  bearing  the  flag  of 
the  Taou-tai,  passed  us  on  her  way  up  the  Yang-tse-Kiang. 
The  Susquehanna's  hull  touched  on  the  bar,  in  two  and  three 
quarter  fathoms,  but  the  engines  dragged  us  safely  over. 
Within  the  bar  lay  a  still  larger  fleet  of  junks,  ready  to  pro- 
ceed to  Pekin.  Each  of  them  had  the  words  "  Kiang-nan''' 
on  the  stern, — literally  "  South  of  the  River,"  t.  0.,  the  Yang- 
tse-Kiang.  A  handsome  outward-bound  junk  bore  the  poetical 
name  of  the  "  Ocean  Star."  At  noon  we  were  again  at 
Shanghai,  and  dropped  anchor  in  the  old  position,  in  front  of 
the  American  Consulate. 

So  ended  the  expedition  to  Nanking. 


Note. — ^The  Susquehanna  made  a  second  attempt  to  reach  Nanking 
in  the  summer  of  1854,  after  her  return  from  Japan.  She  had  on  board  th« 
Hon.  Robert  IVfLane,  successor  to  Col.  Marshal,  as  U.  S.  CommissioncT  to 
China.  On  this  occasion,  the  small  steam-*-^  Confucius  was  employed  ta 
run  in  advance  of  the  Susqueaanna  and  sound  out  the  channel.   After  passing 


304  INDIA,    CHINA,   AND  JAPAN. 

Blonde  Shoal  no  serions  difficnlty  was  experienced,  a  depth  of  from  eight  tc 
Berenteen  fathoms  having  heen  fonnd  in  the  Yang-tse-Kiang,  as  far  as 
Nanking.  After  the  Commissioner  had  commnnicated  with  some  of  the 
rebel  chiefs,  and  the  object  of  the  voyage  was  accomplished,  a  farther  ex- 
ploration of  the  river  was  made  as  far  as  Wn-hn,  a  large  town  sixty  mUei 
above  Nanking.  No  foreign  vessel  had  ever  before  advanced  beyond  th« 
latter  city.  The  river  was  found  to  be  everywhere  broad  and  deep,  flowing 
through  superb  valleys ;  the  soil  was  fertile  and  capable  of  supporting  an 
immense  population.  The  current  was  very  swift,  and  the  Susquehanna^  on 
her  return,  frequently  ran  at  a  speed  of  sixteen  or  seventeen  knots.  Hei 
appearance,  especially  in  the  regions  beyond  Nanking,  created  the  greatesl 
astonishment  among  the  Chinese,  thousands  of  whom  crowded  the  banks  ai 
she  passed.  The  voyage  was  completed  with  entire  success,  no  aocicent  of 
any  kind  having  occurred 


CHAPTER    XXV. 

A     SHANGHAI     JOURNAL. 

Lffe  in  Saanghal— The  Rebels  Expected— My  Journal— The  Fall  of  Nanking— The 
Grain  Trade— Soo-Chow  Threatened— Barbarities  at  Nanking—  Rnmore  Ck)ncern- 
Ine  the  Kebels— Capture  of  Lorch  as— Threats  towards  Foreigners— Alarm  of  the 
Taou-tai— A  Rebel  Proclamation— Imperial  Rewards  and  Pardons — Ck)L  Marshall's 
Proclamation— Nanking  Besieged  by  the  Imperial  Army— Flight  from  Shanghai- 
Sir  George  Bonham— Meetings  of  the  Foreign  Residents- Ransom  for  Shanghai— 
Soo-Chow  not  Taken— Uncertainty— Mr.  Meadows  at  Soo-Chow— Defensive  Worka 
Commenced— Trouble  with  the  Men  of  Foo-Kien— Marauders  in  the  Country- 
Burning  of  Thieves— The  Foo-Kien  Grave-yard— Desertion  of  the  City— A  Ru- 
mored Battle— Death  of  Tien-teh— Mr.  Meadows— Various  Rumors— Return  of  th« 
iScwnc^— Destruction  of  Chin-klang-foo— The  Excitement  Subsides. 

Afteb  our  inglorious  return,  the  Embassy  was  again  shifted 
to  the  American  Consulate,  and  we  became  once  more  the 
guests  of  our  kind  friend,  Mr.  Cunningham.  I  was  supplied 
with  a  room  and  the  services  of  a  young  Chinese  valet,  and 
having,  as  etiquette  prescribed,  made  the  first  calls  upon  the 
American  and  English  residents,  received  in  due  course  of  time 
invitations  to  dinner  in  return.  The  presence  of  the  Susque- 
hanna, with  a  fine  band  of  music  on  board,  was  the  occasion 
of  a  round  of  festivities,  which  were  kept  up  with  more  or  less 
energy,  during  the  remainder  of  my  stay.  The  presence  of 
both  the  American  and  English  Commissioners,  and  of  five 
vessels  of  war  at  once,  was  an  unusual  event  for  Shanghai,  and 


306 


INDIA,    CHnrA,    AND    JAPAN. 


m  spite  of  the  rumored  approach  of  the  rebels,  the  ignoranoe 
of  their  disposition  towards  foreigners,  and  the  anticipation  ol 
\n  assault,  society  there  had  never  before  been  so  gay  and  ani* 
mated. 

During  the  first  fortnight  of  April,  we  were  in  almost  daily 
expectation  of  the  appearance  of  the  vanguard  of  the  rebel 
army.  Each  hour  brought  a  new  rumor,  and  each  day  led  to 
conclusions  and  conjectures  which  the  morrow  proved  to  be  un- 
founded. Although  the  true  rebellion  did  not  commence  until 
some  months  afterwards,  and  the  recollection  of  those  days 
has  doubtless  been  obliterated  from  the  memories  of  the  foreign 
residents  of  Shanghai,  by  the  more  stirring  events  which  fol- 
lowed, they  were  suflBciently  exciting  and  interesting  at  the  time. 
I  know  no  better  way  of  giving  a  picture  of  the  uncertainty  of 
all  news  in  China,  than  by  transcribing  a  few  pages  from  a 
journal  which  I  kept  at  the  time ; 

April  5th,  1858. 

At  length  we  have  positive  news  that  Nanking  has  fallen. 
The  Taou-tai  of  Shanghai  admits  it,  which  is  a  certain  sign  of 
Its  correctness.  The  information  was  received  yesterday  by 
M.  de  Montigny,  the  French  Consul,  through  the  Catholic 
Missionaries  at  Nanking,  but  the  fact  was  doubted  by  most  of 
the  merchants  here  until  the  Taou-tai  confirmed  it.  In  the 
final  assault,  20,000  Tartars  were  slain.  The  streets  were 
blocked  up  with  corpses,  and  1,000  cash  each  was  paid  by  the 
victors  for  their  removal.  Twenty  thousand  rebel  troops  were 
left  to  garrison  the  city,  and  a  body  of  40,000  was  dispatched 
to  intercept  the  imperial  troops  on  their  way  from  Pekin,  to 
Taise   the  siege.      The  rebels,  it  is  said,  will  establish  theii 


THE    GRAIN    TRADE— BOO-CHOW   THREATENED.  30? 

capital  at  Nanking,  and  for  the  remainder  of  the  year  wil) 
content  chemselves  with  consolidating  their  power  in  tht 
South  and  West. 

One  circnmstance,  which  has  operated  in  their  favor,  is 
the  almost  total  destruction  of  the  grain  trade  between  the 
South  and  North,  by  means  of  the  Grand  Canal.  This  ha? 
been  caused  within  a  few  years  by  inundation  between  the 
Yang-tse-Kiang  and  the  Hoang-ho,  which  have  damaged  the 
Canal  to  such  an  extent  as  to  render  it  impassable  for  the 
larger  class  of  vessels.  The  immense  transportations  of  grain, 
for  the  supply  of  the  northern  portion  of  China,  which  were 
formerly  made  entirely  through  this  channel,  are  now  trans- 
ferred to  the  coasting-junks,  which  sail  at  this  season  fron? 
Shanghai,  Chapoo  and  Ningpo. 

The  city  of  Soo-Chow,  it  is  said,  has  paid  a  ransom  of 
700,000  taels,  to  be  exempted  from  capture  and  pillage. 
There  seems  to  be  no  doubt  of  this,  as  business  is  beginning  to 
revive  there,  and  several  Soo-Cliow  families,  who  had  fled  to 
this  place,  returned  last  night  to  their  homes.  It  is  not  yet 
known  whether  a  descent  on  Shanghai  is  meditated,  but  word 
reached  us  yesterday  that  Tien-teh  does  not  intend  to  interfere 
in  any  way  with  foreigners  in  China. 

April  m. 
Yesterday  Mr.  Forbes  conversed  with  a  native,  who  re 
tnmed  in  one  of  the  Taou-tai's  lorchas  from  Nanking.  The  man 
*s  known  tc  the  Americans  here,  who  place  full  reliance  on  hie 
communication.  He  states  that,  after  the  taking  of  Nanking 
the  city  was  given  up  to  sack  and  slaughter,  during  three  days 
and  20,000  Tartars — men,  women  and  children — ^wer«  massa 


,^08  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN- 

cred  The  Viceroy  was  quartered  and  his  remains  nailed  tc 
f\ie  four  gates  of  the  city.  Previous  to  his  death  his  veins  were 
opened  and  his  blood  made  to  flow  into  a  large  vessel  of  water 
which  the  conquerors  drank.  His  daughter,  a  girl  of  nineteen 
was  stripped  in  the  public  square,  bound  upon  a  cross,  and  her 
heart  cut  out.  Many  of  the  Tartar  officers  were  thrown  into 
boiling  oil,  or  tied  to  stakes  surrounded  with  bundles  of  oiled 
straw,  and  slowly  roasted  to  deatL  The  recital  of  these  atro- 
cities has  aroused  the  utmost  horror  and  indignation  among 
the  foreign  residents.  They  were  previously,  almost  to  a  man, 
disposed  to  rejoice  at  the  success  of  the  rebels. 

That  the  Viceroy  has  been  slain,  is  beyond  a  doubt.  CoL 
Marshall  has  received  the  news  officially,  through  the  Governor 
of  Soo-chow,  upon  whom  the  functions  of  Viceroy  now  de- 
volve, and  who  is  supposed  to  possess  the  seals ;  though  an- 
other account  says  they  were  lost  at  Nanking.  The  ransom 
paid  by  the  merchants  of  Soo-Chow  only  exempts  the  city  from 
pillage.  The  rebels  announce  their  determination  to  attack  it, 
and  the  gates  have  been  closed  for  several  days. 

The  rumors  afloat  to-day  are  still  more  alarming.  The  re- 
bels are  stated  to  be  marching  to  Hang-Chow,  a  large  city 
about  midway  between  here  and  Ningpo,  at  the  head  of  the 
intervening  gulf.  Their  proclamations  have  been  received  by 
the  Governor  of  Soong-Keang,  a  city  only  forty  miles  from 
this  place,  and  it  is  also  supposed  that  they  have  been  private- 
Iv  sent  here,  to  the  native  merchants.  Tien-teh  was  to  hav€ 
been  formally  inaugurated  as  Emperor  yesterday,  at  Nanking 
A.mong  the  tribute  sent  from  Soo-Chow  were  1,000  pieces  of 
jrellow  sillk  to  be  used  on  the  occasion. 

The  Taou-tai  this  morning  sent  word  that  twenty  of  the 


CAPTURB   OF   LOBCHA&  309 

torch  as  which  he  had  dispatched  to  the  relief  of  Nanking  had 
fallen  into  the  hands  of  the  rebels ;  who,  he  feared,  having 
the  papers  in  their  possession,  would  attempt  to  pass  the  Cus 
torn  House  at  Woosung  under  false  colors,  and  gain  possessioc 
.nf  that  port.  A  lorcha,  which  he  had  sent  up  a  week  ago 
with  $100,000,  came  back  with  an  acknowledgment  of  its  re 
ception,  signed  by  one  of  the  rebel  chiefs.  It  is  reported  that 
the  captain,  or  supercargo,  quietly  delivered  the  money  and 
took  the  receipt,  thinking  it  was  all  right.  The  merchants  here 
hinted  to  the  Taou-tai  that  the  sooner  all  his  grain-junks  were 
cleared  for  Pekin,  the  better,  and  he  acted  upon  this  sugges- 
tion. The  river  to-day  was  crowded  with  sails,  and  at  least 
sixty  or  seventy  junks  dropped  down  to  Woosung.  There  are 
still  upwards  of  a  thousand  in  port,  and  the  foreigners  are 
anxious  that  they  should  all  be  removed.  In  case  of  an  attack 
they  would  undoubtedly  be  fired  by  the  rebels,  and  set  adrift 
to  float  down  upon  the  foreign  shipping. 

Mr.  Meadows,  the  interpreter  of  the  British  embassy,  has 
been  informed  by  a  Chinese  banker  that  the  rebels  have  ad- 
dressed the  native  inhabitants  of  Shanghai,  bidding  them  be 
assured,  as  it  is  not  them,  but  the  foreign  population,  whom 
they  intend  to  attack.  After  the  rumors  of  Tien-teh's  Chris- 
tianity and  his  pacific  intentions  towards  foreigners,  this 
news  is'  rather  startling,  but  there  may  be  some  reason  for 
crediting  it.  The  fact  that  the  foreigners  here  have  received 
no  communication  from  the  rebels  is  in  itself  suspicious — the 
rastom  of  the  latter  having  invariably  been  to  send  the  pro- 
clamations in  advance  of  their  coming.  Those  who  write  upoi 
their  doors  the  word  "  Obedience''^  are  saved  from  pillage. 


310  IKDIA,   CHIUTA     AKP    JAP  AH. 

Apttl  Itk. 

Tliifl  has  been  a  day  of  excitement.  About  noon  we  re- 
ceived intelligence  that  an  attack  would  certainly  be  made  on 
Shanghai  There  were  rumors  of  a  proclamation  which  stated 
that  the  Chinese  inhabitants  had  nothing  to  fear,  but  that  the 
Taou-tai  must  be  given  up,  as  they  intended  to  punish  him  for 
sending  supplies  to  Nanking.  The  foreign  residents  would  not 
be  interfered  with,  provided  they  gave  security  not  to  carry  od 
the  opium  trade.  There  are  now  vessels  lying  at  Woosung 
laden  with  opium  to  the  amount  of  $3,000,000.  This  rumor 
if  true,  would  stir  up  the  English  to  more  active  measures,  Su 
George  Bonham's  avowed  policy  at  present  being  a  masterly 
inactivity. 

The  Taou-tai  is  alarmed.  He  .  called  to-day  upon  the 
English  and  American  Consuls.  He  denies  that  Soo-Chow  is 
fallen,  says  his  wives  and  treasures  are  still  in  the  city,  but 
that,  on  the  approach  of  da-nger,  he  will  remove  them  to  the 
Custom  House,  in  the  tnidst  of  the  foreign  settlement.  About 
three  o'clock  several  English  officers  imagined  they  heard  the 
report  of  cannon  at  Woosung.  I  mounted  to  the  roof  of  the 
Consulate,  whence  the  shipping  at  that  port  is  discernible,  but 
could  perceive  no  signs  of  firing.  However,  the  English 
deemed  it  expedient  to  land  140  men  with  three  or  four  field- 
pieces,  and  had  companies  of  armed  sailors  patrolling  the  streets 
in  the  evening. 

A  document  has  at  last  been  procured,  which  was  taken 
from  one  of  the  gates  of  Soo-Chow.  It  is  issued  in  the  name 
of  two  of  the  rebel  generals,  declaring  their  intention  to  take 
Chin-Keang-foo,  Soo-Chow,  Hang-Chow,  Soong-Keang  and 
Shanghai     The  Mantchows,  it  says,  are   itterly  annihilated. 


IMPi!;i..AL   BKWARDS  AND   PARDONS.  811 

and  as  for  the  foreigners,  they  are  not  human  beings.  The  iD 
habitants  of  the  three  first-named  cities  have  nothing  to  fear 
but  all  good  Chinese  residing  in  the  two  last  should  imme 
diately  remove  to  the  distance  of  100  U  (33  miles),  until  the 
army  has  passed  through,  as  it  is  by  no  means  certain  that 
there  will  not  be  fighting  at  Shanghai.  This  document  ex- 
plains the  great  panic  of  the  Chinese  to-day,  and  their  hasty 
emigration  from  the  city,  which  has  been  going  on  without  in- 
terruption, from  sunrise  to  the  present  hour  (11p.m.).  The 
streets  are  crowded  with  porters,  carrying  off  chests  and  boxes 
of  valuables. 

Mr.  Taylor,  an  American  Missionary,  showed  me  some 
translations  from  the  Pekin  Gazette,  from  which  it  is  evident 
I  hat  the  Imperial  Court,  is  in  great  consternation.  The  Em- 
peror declares  his  anxiety  is  so  great  that  he  can  neither  eat 
nor  sleep.  The  capture  of  Woo-Chang-foo  and  Ngan-King  is 
announced,  but  no  mention  is  made  of  the  siege  of  Nanking. 
The  Taou-tai  of  this  place  is  to  be  promoted  for  his  loyalty. 
Several  Generals,  who  ivere  slain  hy  the  rebels,  are  promoted  to 
the  rank  of  Governor,  and  others  who  ran  away,  but  died  after- 
wards, are,  on  that  account,  absolved  from  the  punishment  due 
to  their  cowardice !  So  imbecile  and  absurd  a  Court  as  that 
of  China  never  before  governed  a  great  Empire.  Its  duration 
or  overthrow  is  a  matter  of  complete  indifference. 

Col.  Marshall  drew  up  a  proclamation  this  evening,  to  be 
issued  by  the  representatives  of  France  and  America,  since  Sir 
George  Bonham  refuses  to  co-operate.  It  is  a  brief  but  forcible 
paper,  declaring  that,  security  of  life  and  property  having  been 
assured  to  the  citizens  of  both  countries  on  the  faith  of  trea 
ties  with  the  Emperor  of  China,  no  invading  army  could  be 


312  INDIA,    CHIHA,    AND    JAPAN. 

permitted  to  occupy  the  foreign  settlement  here,  or  exact  a 
tribute  from  the  inhabitants.  Furthermore,  that  the  pillag« 
of  Shanghai  would  endanger  the  foreign  residents,  and  would 
be  resisted.  With  regard  to  the  contest  now  waging,  a  strict 
and  impartial  neutrality  would  be  preserved.  It  is  proposed 
to  forward  this  proclamation  to  the  rebels  to-morrow. 

April  ^th. 

Yesterday  a  dispatch  was  received,  to  the  effect  that  Nan- 
king had  been  invested  by  the  Imperial  troops,  and  that  the  re- 
bel forces  had  gone  back  from  Soo-Chow  for  its  relief.  It  was 
addressed  to  the  Taou-tai  by  Heang-Yung,  a  Tartar  General 
who  appears  to  hav^e  acted  bravely  at  the  taking  of  Woo-Chang- 
foo.  According  to  the  proclamation  of  the  Taou-tai,  this  gen- 
eral arrived  before  Nankin  on  the  31st  of  March,  in  advance 
of  the  main  body  of  the  Imperial  troops.  He  calls  upon  the 
inhabitants  of  the  province  not  to  be  alarmed,  as  the  rebels 
will  be  exterminated  to  a  man.  Now  the  proclamation  of  Lo 
and  Wang,  the  two  rebel  generals,  states  that  Tien-teh  was 
crowned  Emperor  at  Nanking  on  the  31st  of  March,  and  it  is 
unlikely  that  both  events  occurred  at  the  same  time.  Notwith- 
Btanding  the  proclamation  of  the  Taou-tai  the  emigration  from 
the  city,  yesterday,  was  more  active  than  ever.  The  hund 
(quay)  and  streets  were  crowded  with  porters,  conveying  the 
goods  and  treasures  of  the  wealthy  class,  who  are  flying  for 
refuge  to  the  villages  in  the  country. 

No  proclamation  has  yet  been  issued  by  the  foreign  repre- 
sentatives. Sir  George  Bonham  yesterday  sent  around  the  draft 
3f  one,  which  differed  in  no  material  point  from  that  of  CoL 
Marshall,  except  that  it  was  more  diffuse,  and  carefully  avoided 


MEETINGS    OF    THE    FOEEIGN    RESIDENTS.  313 

speaking  of  the  rebel  forces.  In  order  to  secure  the  consent  of 
all  to  a  single  declaration,  Col.  Marshall  amalgamated  the  two 
but  Sir  George  still  refuses  to  co-operate.  M.  de  Montignj 
has  subscribed  to  the  American  proclamation,  which  will  pro 
bably  be  issued  this  morning.  The  English  still  keep  a  bodj 
of  armed  sailors  on  shore,  and  on  board  all  the  vessels  of  war 
the  usual  drill  with  small  arms  is  carried  on  every  day. 

Yesterday  afternoon  the  English  and  American  residenti 
met  at  their  respective  Consulates  to  adopt  measures  of  defence 
Twenty-seven  Americans  came  together  and  discussed  the  mat 
ter,  in  true  American  style :  each  one  wanted  to  have  his  own 
way,  and  only  ten  subscribed  to  Mr.  Cunningham's  proposals 
that  a  company  should  be  formed,  armed  and  exercised.  Sev- 
eral of  the  Missionaries  were  quite  ready  to  enter  into  this 
arrangement,  and  one  of  them,  who  is  a  graduate  of  West 
Point,  offered  to  undertake  the  task  of  drilling  them.  The 
English  acted  with  more  unanimity,  and  the  most  of  them 
subscribed  their  names  to  a  similar  proposal. 

The  Chinese  merchants  of  Shanghai  have  made  up  the 
sum  of  83-10,000  for  the  ransom  of  the  city.  Yesterday  a 
deputation  from  them  was  sent  off  to  Tien-teh,  to  remain 
with  him  as  hostages  for  the  payment,  until  the  city  shall  be 
taken.  It  is  said  that  the  Taou-tai  himself  subscribed  largely 
to  the  sum.  Several  of  the  "  long-haired  rebels"  are  reported 
to  be  in  the  city,  and  there  is  no  doubt  that  their  spies  are  al- 
ready here.  Fifteen  hundred  desperadoes  from  the  province 
of  Foo-Kien  are  waiting  the  mom'^nt  of  attack,  to  commence 
pillaging  ;  but  the  Chinese  who  now  remain  have  the  impre* 
Bion  that  the  Americans  and  French  will  defend  the  city. 
U 


314  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

Jpyil  lOth. 

We  have  now  come  to  the  conclusion  that  for  the  present 
we  have  no  reason  to  fear  an  attack  on  Shanghai.  The  armj 
which  was  marching  upon  Soo-Chow  has  not  yet  made  its  ap- 
pearance before  that  city,  having  probably  gone  back  to  raise 
the  siege  of  Nanking.  Since  the  Taou-tai's  proclamation  no 
further  news  has  been  received,  but  the  foreign  residents  are 
satisfied  that  they  are  safe  for  at  least  ten  days  longer.  The 
Chinese  continue  to  flock  out  of  the  city,  though  not  to  such 
an  extent  as  during  the  previous  two  days.  Now,  since  the 
alarm  has  subsided,  the  English  have  begun  to  adopt  active 
measures  of  defence.  Yesterday  afternoon  they  had  forty  or 
fifty  sailors  at  work,  throwing  up  a  three-gun  redoubt,  at  the 
northern  end  of  the  race-course.  The  sailors  and  marines 
were  drilled  in  artillery  practice  at  the  same  time,  on  the  green 
in  the  centre  of  the  course. 

To-day  the  news  of  the  advance  of  the  Imperial  army 
apon  Nanking  is  confirmed.  Mr.  Meadows  left  here  last  night 
at  midnight,  for  the  rebel  camp,  disguised  as  a  Chinaman.  He 
took  along  a  European  dress,  to  wear  after  arriving,  and  is  un- 
derstood to  possess  an  order  from  the  Taou-tai  to  the  local 
authorities  on  the  road,  to  facilitate  his  progress. 

April  ISth. 
We  are  still  in  the  same  delightful  state  of  uncertainty,  m 
regard  to  the  future.  The  rebels  and  the  Imperial  forces 
commanded  severally  by  Tien-teh  and  Heang-Yuen,  have  met, 
and,  accordiiLg  to  Chinese  custom,  appointed  day  before  yester« 
day  for  the  battle  :  so  that  we  may  expect  to  hear  something 
in  two  days  more — but  it  is  too  much  to  hope  that  we  will  gel 


DEFENSIVE    WORKS.  3lg 

fche  truth,  or  any  tking  near  it.  On  Monday  evening,  a  lettei 
was  received  from  Mr.  Meadows,  who  has  reached  Soo-Chow 
He  found  the  city  perfectly  tranquil.  The  deputation  of  mer- 
chants  commissioned  to  take  the  ransom  to  Tien-teh,  had  re- 
turned  after  proceeding  as  far  as  Chin-Kiang-foo,  where  they 
found  a  body  .a  the  Imperial  troops.  They  were  obliged  to 
hasten  back,  to  prevent  the  ransom  from  falling  into  the  wrong 
hands.  This  corroborates  the  report  of  the  rebels  having  re- 
treated  from  Chin-Kiang-foo  and  fallen  back  upon  Nanking,  in 
order  to  concentrate  their  strength  for  an  encounter  with 
Heang- Yuen's  army. 

Meanwhile  the  work  of  defence  goes  on.     The   English 
have  taken  it  upon  themselves  to  construct  a  double  ditch  from 
Soo-Chow  creek  across  to  the  north-western  angle  of  the  city 
wall,  covering  the  rear  of  the  foreign  settlement.     An  attack, 
if  made  at  all,  will  most  probably  be  made  from  the  native 
city,  across  a  creek  which  is  commanded  by  the  big  guns  of 
the  Susquehanna.     At  a  meeting  held  at  the  English  Consu- 
late  yesterday,  the  resident  merchants  decided  to  bear  the  ex- 
penses of  the  work.     Several  hundred  coolies  have  been  em- 
ployed upon  the  ditch,  which  is  a  slight  affair,  that  would  not 
resist  a  charge  of  European  cavalry,  but  may  prove  sufficient 
against  Chinese,      The   breastwork   runs  directly  across  the 
race-course,  and  to-day  has  reached  the  graveyard  of  the  men 
of  Foo-Kien,  a  body  of  whom  came  to  stop  proceedings.     The 
Chinese  have  a  great  regard  for  the  graves  of  their  ancestors, 
which,  indeed,  are  the  only  objects  for  which  ihey  exhibit  the 
least  reverence.     These  Foo-Kien  people  are  a  fierce,  disorder 
ly  set,  and  the  natives  of  Shanghai  are  in  great  dread  of  them. 
The  assistant   Engineer  of  the  English  steamer  Salaynande^ 


316  INDIA,    CHINA,    AHD   JAPAN. 

mysteriouslj  disappeared  two  days  ago,  and  has  not  returned 
When  last  seen  on  Monday  night,  he  was  quarrelling  witli 
some  Foo-Kien  boatmen,  and  it  is  now  surmised  that  thej 
murdered  him.  Several  dead  bodies  have  floated  down  tb€ 
river  within  %  few  days. 

We  hear  already  of  bands  of  marauders  in  the  vicinity. 
The  magistrates  of  the  difl"erent  districts  have  formed  a  league 
for  their  protection,  and  have  resolved  to  burn  alive  any 
man  who  is  caught  plundering.  Two  cases  have  occurred  with- 
in a  few  days.  On  Monday  a  band  of  forty  robbers  entered  a 
village  about  two  miles  from  here  and  demanded  a  quantity  of 
ricfc  from  the  inhabitants — which  was  paid.  Two  of  the  men, 
however,  lingered  behind,  and  demanded  of  one  of  the  villagers 
that  they  should  be  paid  20,000  cash  (about  $14),  The  man 
said  he  had  but  8,000  cash  in  the  house,  which  he  would  give 
them.  While  pretending  to  get  it  he  found  means  to  whisper 
to  a  coolie,  who  went  out  and  summoned  the  people.  The 
house  was  surrounded,  the  robbers  taken  and  condemned  to  be 
burned.  One  of  them  was  placed  beneath  the  pile,  and  se- 
curely bound.  The  other  was  laid  upon  the  top,  and  several 
times  burst  the  cords  which  held  him  and  sprang  from  the 
flames.  He  was  relentlessly  dragged  back,  until  all  power  of 
resistance  was  lost.  In  a  village  about  ten  miles  from  here, 
four  Canton  men  were  found  plundering  a  pawnbroker's  shop, 
and  suffered  the  same  horrible  fate.  In  every  village  is  sus- 
pended a  gong,  which  is  to  be  sounded  in  case  of  an  attack. 

It  is  from  these  bands  of  desperadoes  that  the  older  residenta 
anticipate  trouble.  The  Mission  Establishment  beyond  Soo* 
Chow  creek  has  been  furnished  with  arms  by  Capt.  Buchanan, 
and  its  inmates  keep  up  a  watch  at  night.     Mr.  Yates,  of  the 


TROUBLE     WITH    THE    MEN    OF    FOO-KIBN  31Y 

Baptist  Mission,  who  had  placed  his  family  on  board  one  of 
the  merchant  vessels,  has  returned  to  his  house.  In  passing 
through  the  city  yesterday,  I  noticed  many  streets  which  were 
almost  entirely  deserted.  Mr.  Shortrede,  the  Editor  of  the 
Frie^id  of  China,  who  came  down  from  the  hills  two  days  ago, 
met  two  hundred  boats  on  their  way  to  Soo-Chow,  laden  with 
people  and  property. 

April  nth. 

The  difficulty  with,  the  Foo-Kien  men  has  not  yet  been 
settled.  On  the  Chinese  coolies  being  prevented  by  a  band  of 
them  from  digging  up  the  graves,  the  English  brought  a  field- 
piece,  loaded  it,  and  threatened  to  fire  in  case  they  did  not 
retire.  For  a  time  they  dispersed,  but  soon  returned  in  much 
greater  numbers.  It  is  now  said  that  they  have  decided  to 
allow  the  breastwork  to  be  thrown  up,  in  case  pledges  are  given 
by  the  English,  that  when  the  danger  is  over  the  earth  shall 
be  restored  to  its  former  place.  This  demand  will  be  complied 
with  and  the  work  will  proceed,  but  as  the  embankments  are 
made  upon  the  line  of  a  proposed  road  which  the  merchants 
have  been  endeavoring  to  open,  it  may  be  doubted  whether 
the  latter  will  keep  faith  with  the  men  of  Foo-Kien.  On  my 
visit  to  some  American  Missionaries  in  the  city  yesterday,  I 
was  struck  with  its  air  of  desolation.  There  are  streets  where 
hardly  a  house  is  inhabited.  Where  we  found  crowds  on  oui 
first  arrival,  there  is  now  scarcely  a  single  soul  to  be  seen.  I 
have  no  doubt  that  50,000  persons  have  emigrated  from  th« 
sity  within  the  past  two  or  three  weeks. 

News  reached  us  yesterday,  that  a  battle  had  been  fonghl 


318  INDIA,    CHINA      AND    JAPAN. 

before  the  walls  of  Nanking,  in  which  the  advantage  rested  with 
the  Imperial  troops.  Great  numbers  were  slain  on  both  sides^ 
and  the  revolutionary  army  had  retired  within  the  walls.  A 
letter  was  also  received  from  Mr.  Meadows,  who  is  still  at  Soo- 
Chow,  where  he  intends  remaining.  He  repeats  the  stories 
which  had  already  reached  us,  with  the  additional  fact  that 
Tien-teh  is  actually  dead,  as  was  surmised  by  some,  and  that 
the  name  of  the  present  chief  is  Tae-ping.  Mr.  Meadows  ap 
pears  in  European  costume,  and  has  received  no  molestation. 
He  has  put  himself  in  connection  with  the  mandarins,  and 
expects  to  be  protected.  The  celebrated  pagodas  on  Golden 
Island  in  the  Yang-tse-Kiang,  opposite  Chin-Kiang-foo,  are 
said  to  have  been  entirely  destroyed  by  the  rebels,  and  all  the 
Buddhist  priests  beheaded.  If  this  be  true,  the  library  of 
Chinese  Literature  on  the  island—one  of  the  most  valuaHe 
in  the  Empire— has  probably  perished  also. 

April  11th. 
Flying  rumors  from  Nanking,  favorable  to  the  rebels,  now 
begin  to  reach  us.  It  is  quite  evident,  from  the  tenor  of  the 
various  reports,  that  the  Imperialists  have  at  least  gained  no 
success.  An  intelligent  Chinaman,  who  was  on  board  one  of 
the  Taou-tai's  lorchas,  in  the  neighborhood  of  Nanking,  states 
that  the  accounts  we  had  received  of  the  valor  of  Heang-Yuen, 
the  Tartar  general,  are  without  foundation.  The  people  have 
unbounded  confidence  in  the  rebels,  whom  he  represents  as  just 
and  humane  in  their  dealings  with  them.  Heang-Yuen,  he  says, 
keeps  aloof  and  avoids  giving  battle.  A  native  m^ssengei 
dispatched  by  the  Eev.  ^Ir.  Taylor,  about  two  weeks  ago,  re 


RETURN     OF     THE     BARK     "SCIENCE."  319 

turned  yesterday,  having  succeeded  in  reaching  Xanking. 
His  account  is  greatly  exaggerated;  he  says  there  are  500- 
000  Tarter  troops  around  Nanking,  and  an  equal  number 
of  rebels  within  the  walls.  The  latter  never  intended  to  have 
advanced  upon  Shanghai,  and  the  report  of  their  march  to- 
wards Soo-Chow  after  the  taking  of  Xanking  was  occasioned 
by  the  flight  of  the  Imperial  troops  in  that  direction. 

The  American  bark  Science,  despatched  by  the  Taou-tai  to 
the  relief  of  the  Imperial  fleet,  arrived  at  Woosung  on  Thurs- 
day night,  andCapt.Roundy  was  here  at  breakfast  yesterday 
morning.  He  only  ascended  the  Yang-tse-Kiang  seventy-five 
miles,  and  attributes  his  difficulties  entirely  to  the  Chinese 
pilots.  There  is  water  enough  for  the  largest  vessels  in  the 
channel,  which,  however,  is  narrow  and  tortuous.  A  letter 
was  received  last  night  from  Capt.  Bush,  of  the  schooner 
Dewariy  which  had  reached  Chin-Kiang-foo.  He  states  that  he 
had  landed  and  walked  through  the  city,  which  was  entirely 
deserted — not  a  soul  to  be  seen.  The  inhabitants  had  all  gone 
to  Nanking,  but  under  what  circumstances,  he  does  not  inform 
us.  A  letter  was  also  received  from  Mr.  Meadows,  who  had 
been  deserted  by  all  his  servants,  and  was  unable  to  procure 
%  boat  to  proceed  further. 

The  foreign  residents  now  no  longer  apprehend  an  attack, 
but  the  native  merchants  are  still  in  a  state  of  alarm. 


The  period  covered  by  these  extracts  from  my  journal  was 
the  most  exciting  portion  of  my  residence  at  Shanghai  After 
the  first  alarm  had  subsided,  the  fugitive  Chinese  returned, 
trade  resumed  its  usual  course,  and  the  place  enjoyed  severs 
months   of  comparative   quiet.     During   the   following  yeai 


320  DTDIA,   CHINA,   AND   JAPAK. 

1854,  however,  all  that  we  had  anticipated  in  the  spnng 
of  1853  actually  came  to  pass.  The  city  fell  into  the  hands 
of  the  rebels,  and  the  defence  the  foreign  merchants  had 
thrown  up  as  a  protection  against  them,  served,  singularlj 
enough,  to  protect  themselves  from  the  assaults  of  the  Tm 
perialists. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

A     CHINESE     PBOMEKADE. 

Chinese  smd  Foreigners  at  Shanghai — Situation  of  the  City — A  Chinese  Pioirenade- 
Burylng-Grounds— Money  for  the  Dead — A  Baby  Tower— The  Nlngpo  Hooa©- 
Coffins— Chinese  Gypsies— A  Street  of  the  Suburbs— The  City  Gate— A  Chines* 
Pawnbroker's  Shop — A  Temple — The  Statue  of  Boodh — A  Priest  at  his  Devotioni 
— Stenches  of  the  Streets— Beggars — Shops — View  of  the  Tea-Garden- Chinese 
Gamblers — An  Artistic  Mountebank — The  Baptist  Chapel — Scene  from  its  Tower — 
The  Hills— Fanciful  Signs — Missionary  Labors  in  China — Apathy  of  the  People— A 
Chinese  Residence — The  Library— The  City  Prison— Torture  of  the  Prisoners— A 
Bath  House— Character  of  the  Mongol  Form— The  Tutelar  Deity  of  Shanghai— 
Boodh  at  Sunset— Kite  Flying. 

During  the  two  weeks  chronicled  in  the  foregoing  journal 
notwithstanding  the  warlike  excitement  which  was  more  or 
less  shared  by  all,  I  devoted  several  days  to  visiting  the 
Chinese  city  and  the  points  of  interest  in  its  environs.  Unlike 
Canton  and  the  other  cities  of  the  South,  Shanghai  is  thrown 
open  without  restriction  to  the  foreigner,  and  he  may  even 
wander  unmolested  for  a  distance  of  thirty  or  forty  miles  into 
the  interior.  The  natives  there,  instead  of  despising  the  "  out- 
side barbarians,"  look  up  to  them  with  profound  respect ;  the 
cry  of  ^^  Fan-kwei  /  ^^  (foreign  devil !)  which  pursues  you  in 
Canton,  is  never  heard  in  the  streets ;  the  stupid  faces  of  the 
14^ 


322  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

populace  are  turned  towards  you  with  an  expression  of  good 
will,  and  there  is  no  hindrance  whatever  to  your  studies  of  the 
peculiarities  of  Chinese  character  and  habits.  I  was  soon  quite 
satisfied  with  the  extent  of  my  observations.  Superficia.  as 
they  were,  I  found  nothing  in  the  subject  sufficient  to  tempi 
me  into  a  further  endurance  of  the  disgusting  annoyances  of  a 
Chinese  city.  I  shall  ask  the  reader's  patience  during  th^ 
promenade  on  which  I  propose  to  take  him,  since  it  is  for  the 
first  and  last  time.  The  scenes  we  shall  witness  are  curious,  in 
spite  of  their  disagreeable  features,  and  a  conscientious  trav- 
eller must  describe  things  as  he  sees  them.  But,  first  let  me 
give  some  necessary  details  of  the  topography  of  Shanghai 

The  city  lies  upon  the  right  bank  of  the  Whang-po  (or,  as  it  is 
called  by  foreigners,  the  Woosung)  River,  about  fourteen  milea 
above  its  junction  with  the  Yang-tse-Kiang.  The  river  here 
makes  a  sharp  bend  to  the  south,  so  that  the  city  faces  the  east. 
The  Chinese  town,  which  is  walled,  is  in  the  form  of  a  semi' 
circle,  with  its  chord  upon  the  river.  It  is  about  five  miles  in 
circumference,  and  contains  a  population  of  300,000.  To  the 
north  of  this,  and  separated  from  it  by  a  small  creek,  is  tha 
foreign  settlement,  which  extends  along  the  river  for  three- 
quarters  of  a  mile.  The  houses  are  large  and  handsome,  fre- 
quently good  examples  of  the  simpler  forms  of  the  Palladian 
style,  and  surrounded  by  gardens.  Along  the  water  is  a  broad 
quay,  called  the  "  bund,^^  (from  an  Indian  word,)  which  is  tlie 
evening  resort  of  the  residents,  and  the  great  centre  of  business 
and  gossip.  The  foreign  community,  exclusive  of  the  mission- 
aries, consists  of  about  170  persons,  14  of  whom  are  ladies. 
It  is,  beyond  dispute,  the  most  cheerful,  social  and  agreeable 
community  in  China. 


BURYING-GROUNDS ^MONET  FOR  FHE  DEAD.       323 

I  was  greatly  indebted  to  the  Rev.  Charles  Taylor,  of  tha 
Methodist,  and  the  Rev.  M.  T.  Yates,  of  the  Baptist  Mission 
for  pilotage  through  the  mazes  of  Shanghai,  and  explanations 
of  the  many  curious  scenes  we  witnessed  by  the  way.  Although 
it  required  several  short  excursions  to  make  me  familiar  with 
the  objects  which  most  interest  the  stranger,  I  hope,  in  the 
course  of  one  extended  walk,  to  bring  them  all  under  the 
reader^s  notice,  so  that  there  will  be  no  necessity  for  again 
taking  him  within  the  city  walls. 

Leaving  the  American  Consulate,  we  proceed  westward 
along  the  banks  of  a  little  creek,  lined  with  willow  trees. 
Beyond  the  limits  of  the  settlement  we  come  upon  exten- 
sive burying-grounds,  where  rank  grass  and  weeds  hide  the 
tombstones,  centuries  old.  These  places  are  sacred,  and 
though  the  dead  have  long  been  forgotten,  and  their  families 
become  extinct,  no  one  dares  to  interfere  with  the  soil  under 
which  they  rest.  In  the  midst  of  one  of  these  neglected  cem- 
eteries, stands  a  horse,  of  the  natural  size,  sculptured  in  gray 
granite.  On  many  of  the  tombs  are  heaps  of  silvered  paper, 
made  into  the  form  of  ingots  of  sycee  silver,  which  are  car- 
ried there  and  burnt,  for  the  purpose  of  paying  the  expenses 
of  the  dead,  in  the  other  world.  The  usual  order  of  things  is 
reversed  in  this  case,  and  what  is  merely  the  shadow  here,  be- 
comes the  substantial  silver  there.  Judging  from  the  quanti- 
ties consumed,  the  dead  must  live  in  a  most  extravagant  style. 
Between  the  graves  and  the  city  wall  stands  a  low  building,  in 
»  clump  of  cedar  trees.  This  is  one  of  the  "  Baby  Towers," 
of  which  there  are  several  near  the  city.  All  infants  who  die 
inder  the  age  of  one  year  are  not  honored  with  burial,  but 
done  up  in  a  package,  with  matting  and  cords,  and  thrown  into 


324  INDIA,   CHINA,   AND   JAPAN. 

the  tower,  or  rather  well,  as  it  is  sunk  some  distance  below 
the  earth.  The  top,  which  rises  about  ten  feet  above  the 
ground,  is  roofed,  but  an  aperture  is  left  for  casting  in  the 
bodies.  Looking  into  it,  we  see  that  the  tower  is  filled  nearlj 
to  the  roof  with  bundles  of  matting,  from  which  exhales  a 
pestilent  effluvium. 

Some  distance  further,  near  the  north-western  angle  of  the 
city  wall,  we  reach  the  "  Ningpo  House,"  as  it  is  called,  a 
beneficial  institution  of  an  interesting  character.  It  was  hmli 
and  is  supported  by  a  club  of  Shanghai  merchants  and 
traders,  who  are  natives  of  Ningpo,  for  the  purpose  of  afi'ord 
ing  relief  to  those  of  their  countrymen  who  may  become  des- 
titute, and  taking  charge  of  the  bodies  of  those  who  die.  It 
is  a  collection  of  low  buildings,  principally  of  stone,  and  se- 
parated by  paved  court-yards  into  the  different  departments 
which  it  embraces.  In  one  part  we  find  the  aged  and  infirm 
furnished  with  food  and  shelter,  both  of  the  plainest  kind; 
in  another  we  enter  what  appears  to  be  a  great  coffin  ware- 
house, but  is  in  fact  a  repository  of  dead  bodies.  The  ponderous 
coffins  of  poplar  or  sycamore  plank,  stained  of  a  dark  red 
color,  and  covered  in  some  instances  with  gilded  hieroglyphics, 
are  ranged  in  compartments,  according  to  the  sex  and  time  of 
decease  of  the  occupant.  They  are  thus  kept  for  three  years, 
wheti,  if  not  reclaimed  by  their  relatives  at  Ningpo  and  trans- 
ported thither  for  burial,  they  are  deposited  in  a  cemetery  ad- 
joinmg  the  buildings.  The  bodies  are  firmly  packed  in  fine 
lime,  which  prevents  any  exhalations  from  the  coffins.  We 
should  not  suspect  that  in  the  warehouse  through  which  we 
pass  there  are  upwards  of  a  hundred  corpses,  some  of  whicli 
have  been  there  nearlv  the  whole  of  the  allotted  time      There 


CHINESE    GYPSIES.  325 

are  several  other  beneficial  institutions  of  a  similar  character  ic 
Shanghai,  and  their  provisions  appear  to  be  carried  out  with 
fidelity  and  conscientiousness.  In  each  of  the  establishments 
there  is  a  hall  hung  with  lanterns,  and  usually  containing  the 
idol  of  one  of  their  gods,  wherein  the  Directors  meet,  to  smoke, 
drink  tea,  and  discuss  their  affairs. 

Not  far  from  the  Ningpo  House,  there  is  a  camp  of  Chinese 
Gypsies.  These  outcasts  have  little  in  common  with  the 
Gypsies  of  Europe  and  the  East.  They  are  of  pure  Mongolian 
blood,  and  only  resemble  the  former  in  their  wandering  habits, 
their  distinct  social  government,  and  their  mendicity,  which 
constitutes,  in  fact,  almost  their  only  means  of  support.  Their 
degradation  is  almost  without  parallel,  and  I  doubt  if  there  be 
any  thing  in  human  nature  more  loathsome  than  their  appear- 
ance. Here  they  are,  on  this  bleak  hillock,  over  which  a  few 
stunted  cedars  are  scattered.  Their  lairs — for  they  cannot  be 
called  tents — of  filthy  matting  are  not  more  than  four  feet  high, 
and  barely  large  enough  to  contain  two  persons.  They  are 
built  upon  the  cold,  wet  earth,  with  perhaps  a  little  straw  to 
protect  the  bodies  of  the  inmates.  Two  or  three  stones  and  a 
heap  of  ashes,  on  the  side  of  the  hill,  are  all  their  domestic  ap- 
pliances. As  we  approach,  a  wild  head,  with  long,  tangled 
hair,  and  deep-set,  glaring  black  eyes,  is  thrust  out  from  each  ol 
the  lairs.  Some  lie  still,  merely  following  us  with  their  gaze, 
like  a  beast  surprised  in  his  den ;  others  crawl  out,  displaying 
garments  that  are  dropping  to  pieces  from  sheer  rottenness,  and 
figures  so  frightfully  repulsive  and  disgusting,  that  we  move  away 
repenting  that  we  have  disturbed  this  nest  of  human  vermin 

We  now  enter  an  outer  street,  leading  to  the  northern  gata 
of  the  city.    It  is  narrow,  paved  witl^  rough  stones,  and  carpeted 


526  INDIA.    CHINA^    Ain)    JAPAN. 

with  a  deposit  of  suft  mud.  The  houses  on  either  hand  are  ol 
wood,  two  stories  high,  and  have  a  dark,  decaying  air.  The 
lower  stories  are  shops,  open  to  the  street,  within  which  the 
pig-tailed  merchants  sit  behind  their  counters,  and  look  at  o« 
out  of  the  corners  of  their  crooked  eyes,  as  we  go  by.  The 
streets  are  filled  with  a  crowd  of  porters,  water-carriers,  and 
other  classes  of  the  laboring  population,  and  also,  during  the 
past  week  or  two,  with  the  families  and  property  of  thousands 
of  the  inhabitants,  who  are  flying  into  the  country,  in  anticipa- 
tion of  war.  At  the  corners  of  the  streets  are  stands  for  the  sale 
of  fruit  and  vegetables,  the  cheaper  varieties  of  which  can  be 
had  in  portions  valued  at  a  single  cash — the  fifteenth  part  of  a 
cent.  A  bridge  of  granite  slabs  crosses  the  little  stream  of 
which  I  have  already  spoken,  and  after  one  or  two  turnings  we 
find  ourselves  at  the  city  gate.  It  is  simply  a  low  stone  arch, 
through  a  wall  ten  feet  thick,  leading  into  a  sort  of  bastion 
for  defence,  with  an  inner  gate.  Within  the  space  is  a  guard- 
house, where  we  see  some  antiquated  instruments,  resembling 
pikes  and  halberds,  leaning  against  the  wall,  but  no  soldiers. 
A  manifesto  issued  by  the  Taou-tai — ^probably  some  lying  re- 
port of  a  victory  over  the  rebels — is  pasted  against  the  inner 
gate,  and  there  is  a  crowd  before  it,  spelling  out  its  black  and 
vermilion  hieroglyphics. 

Turning  to  the  left,  we  advance  for  a  short  distance  along 
the  inside  of  the  waU,  which  is  of  brick,  about  twenty  feet 
thick,  with  a  notched  parapet.  Carefully  avoiding  the  heaps 
of  filth  and  the  still  more  repulsive  beggars  that  line  the  path, 
we  reach  a  large,  blank  building,  about  two  hundred  feet 
square.  This  is  a  pawnbroker's  shop — ^for  the  Chinese  are  civ- 
ilized enough  for  that-  -and  well  worth  a  visit.     Th^  front  fen 


327 


tJfance  admits  us  into  the  office,  where  the  manager  and  his  at 
fcendants  are  busily  employed  behind  a  high  counter,  and  a 
crowd  of  applicants  fills  the  space  in  front.  We  apply  foi 
permission  to  inspect  the  establishment,  which  is  cheerfully 
granted ;  a  side-door  is  opened,  and  we  enter  a  long  range  of 
store-houses,  filled  to  the  ceiling  with  every  article  of  a 
Chinese  household  or  costume,  each  piece  being  folded  up  se- 
parately, numbered  and  labelled.  One  room  is  appropriated 
wholly  to  the  records,  or  books  registering  the  articles  deposited. 
There  are  chambers  containing  thousands  of  pewter  candle- 
sticks ;  court-yards  piled  with  braziers ;  spacious  lofts,  stuffed  to 
the  ceiling  with  che  cotton  gowns  and  petticoat-pantaloons  of 
the  poorer  classes,  and  chests,  trunks,  boxes  and  other  cabinet- 
ware  in  bewildering  quantities.  At  a  rough  estimate,  I  should 
say  that  tnere  are  at  least  30,000  costumes ;  when  we  asked  the 
attendant  the  number,  he  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  said: 
'*  Who  could  count  them  ? "  There  are  three  or  four  other 
establishments,  of  nearly  similar  magnitude,  in  the  city. 
They  are  regulated  by  the  Government,  and  are  said  to  be  con- 
ducted in  a  fair  and  liberal  spirit. 

At  the  next  angle  of  the  wall  stands  an  old  Boodhist 
temple,  brfore  the  door  of  which  lie  two  granite  lions,  broken 
and  overthrown.  Squatted  on  a  pedestal  within  is  a  gilded 
idol,  about  five  feet  high,  while  in  recesses  on  either  hand  are 
the  guardians  or  watchers  of  the  temple — gigantic  figures,  armed 
with  swords,  and  glittering  with  the  gaudiest  colors  of  the 
Chinese  pallet.  We  pass  through  this  vestibule  and  ascend  a 
flight  of  steps  to  an  inner  temple,  where  the  god  appears  in 
colossal  form,  and  in  spite  of  his  slack  hands  fallen  on  his 
knees,  his  heavy,  hanging  abdomen,  his  bloated  cheeks,  and  thi 


ft28  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

good-humored  silliness  of  his  face,  his  appearance  is  at  leasl 
respectable.  Any  colossal  representation  of  the  human  body, 
if  not  an  intentional  caricature,  is  to  a  certain  degree  majestic 
and  impressive;  and  though  the  Chinese  Boodh  stands,  in 
rank  of  idolship,  far  below  the  Indian  Brahma  and  the  grand 
Egyptian  Amun-Re,  one  cannot  flout  him  to  his  face.  In  a 
chamber  adjoining  this  we  find  a  female  divinity — the  Queen 
of  Mercy — whose  Chinese  title  I  forget.  Hearing  a  continual 
thumping  noise  in  the  room  beyond,  we  push  open  the  door  and 
surprise  a  Boodhist  priest  at  his  devotions.  He  is  seated  at 
a  table  with  a  book  open  before  him,  from  which  he  is  chanting 
prayers  with  a  monotonous,  drawling  tone,  while  with  one  hand 
he  thumps  incessantly  with  a  small  wooden  hammer  upon  a 
hollow  drum  of  the  same  material.  This  drum  is  called  by 
the  same  name  as  the  great  fish  upon  which  the  earth  rests,  and 
which  its  sound  soothes  into  quiet.  When,  at  any  time,  even 
for  a  minute,  there  is  no  drum  beaten  throughout  the  whole 
world,  the  fish  at  once  becomes  uneasy,  and  his  contortions 
occasion  earthquakes.  The  priest  wears  a  yellow  robe,  his  skin 
is  yellow,  his  head  is  shaven  bald,  his  face  is  puckered  with 
wrinkles,  and  altogether  he  is  one  of  the  oddest  and  funniest 
old  men  that  ever  was  seen.  He  looks  up,  nods,  with  a  queer 
twinkle  in  his  eyes,  looks  down  again,  and  up  again,  but  never 
once  pauses  in  his  chanting  or  his  thumping. 

We  now  take  a  street  which  strikes  into  the  heart  of  the 
eity,  and  set  out  for  the  famous  "  Tea  Gardens."  The  pavement 
is  of  rough  stones,  slipperv  with  mud,  and  on  one  side  of  the 
itreet  is  a  ditch  filled  witn  black,  stagnant  slime,  from  which 
arises  the  fouiest  smell.  Porters,  carrying  buckets  of  offal^ 
brush  past  us ;  public  cloacw  stand  open  at  the  comers,  and 


STENCHES   OF    THE   STREETS ^BfiaGAKS.  329 

the  clw«(Jies  and  persons  of  the  unwashed  laborers  and  beggars 
distil  a  reeking  compound  of  still  more  disagreeable  exhala 
tions.     Ooleridge  says  of  Cologne : 

**  I  counted  two  and  seyenty  etenches, 
All  well  defined — and  several  stinks ;  " 

but  Shanghai,  in  its  horrid  foulness,  would  be  flattered  by  such 
a  description.  I  never  go  within  its  walls  but  with  a  shudder 
and  the  taint  of  its  contaminating  atmosphere  seems  to  hang 
about  me  like  a  garment  long  after  I  have  left  them.  Even  in 
the  country,  which  now  rejoices  in  the  opening  spring,  all  the 
freshness  of  the  season  is  destroyed  by  the  rank  ammoniated 
odors  arising  from  pits  of  noisome  manure,  sunk  in  the  fields. 
Having  mentioned  these  things,  I  shall  not  refer  to  them 
again ;  but  if  the  reader  would  have  a  correct  description  of 
Shanghai,  they  cannot  be  wholly  ignored. 

It  requires  some  care  to  avoid  contact  with  the  beggars  who 
throng  the  streets,  and  we  would  almost  as  willingly  touch  a 
man  smitten  with  leprosy,  or  one  dying  of  the  plague.  They 
take  their  stations  in  front  of  the  shops,  and  supplicate  with 
a  loud,  whining  voice,  until  the  occupant  purchases  their  de- 
parture by  some  trifling  alms ;  for  they  are  protected  by  the 
law  in  their  avocation,  and  no  man  dare  drive  them  forcibly 
from  his  door.  As  we  approach  the  central  part  of  the  city, 
the  streets  become  more  showy  and  a  trifle  cleaner.  The  shops 
are  large  and  well  arranged,  and  bright  red  signs,  covered  with 
golden  inscriptions,  swing  vertically  from  the  eaves.  All  the 
richest  shops,  however,  are  closed  at  present,  and  not  a  piece  ol 
the  celebrated  silks  of  Soo-Ohow,  the  richest  in  China,  is  to 
be  fouu^  11  the  city.     The  manufactures  m  jade-stone,  carved 


330  IMDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

bamboOj  and  the  furniture  of  Ningpo,  inlaid  with  ivory  and 
boxwood,  are  still  to  be  had  in  profusion,  but  they  are  more 
curious  than  elegant.  Indeed,  I  have  seen  no  article  of  Chinese 
workmanship  which  could  positively  be  called  beautiful,  unless 
it  was  fashioned  after  a  European  model.  Industry,  perse- 
rerance,  and  a  wonderful  faculty  of  imitation  belong  to  these 
people  ;  but  they  are  utterly  destitute  of  original  taste. 

The  "  Tea  Garden"  is  an  open  space  near  the  centre  of  the 
city,  devoted  to  the  recreation  of  the  populace.  In  the  midst 
of  a  paven  square  is  a  pool  of  greenish,  stagnant  water,  in 
which  stands  a  building  of  two  stories,  with  the  peaked,  curved, 
overhanging  roofs,  which  we  always  associate  with  Chinese  ar- 
chitecture. It  is  reached  by  bridges  which  cross  the  water  in 
curious  zigzag  lines,  so  that  you  walk  more  than  double  the 
actual  distance.  On  the  opposite  side  are  several  similar  build- 
ings, surrounded  by  masses  of  artificial  rock-work,  but  the  only 
token  of  a  garden  is  a  pair  of  magnolia  trees,  clothed  in  the 
glory  of  their  fragrant,  snowy  blossoms.  Every  body  remem- 
bers the  old-fashioned  plates  of  blue  Liverpool  ware,  with  a 
representation  of  two  Chinese  houses,  a  willow  tree,  a  bridge 
with  three  Chinamen  walking  over  it,  and  two  crows  in  the 
air.  These  plates  give  a  very  good  representation  of  the 
Tea  Garden,  which  is  a  fair  sample  of  what  is  most  picturesque 
in  Chinese  life.  The  buildings  are  tea-houses,  and  on  entering 
we  find  them  filled  with  natives  of  all  classes,  drinking  strong 
decoctions  of  the  herb,  and  smoking  their  slender  pipes  of 
bamboo,  with  bowls  about  the  size  of  a  lady's  thimble.  The  tea 
is  prepared  in  enormous  pots  suspended  over  furnaces  of  clay. 
The  master  of  the  house  shows  us  a  vacant  table,  but  we  de- 
tline  his  hint,  and  pass  out  to  view  the  crowds  in  the  square 


CHINBSE   MOUNTEBANKS.  331 

Here  is  a  man  leading  a  white  goat  with  only  three  lega 
prhich  he  wishes  to  sell,  but  on  a  careful  examination  we  per- 
ceive that  one  of  the  fore  legs  has  been  neatly  amputated  while 
the  animal  was  young.     There  are  half  a  dozen  gaming  tables, 
each   surrounded   by   its   crowd   of   players   and    spectators. 
The    Chinese  are  inveterate  gamblers,  and   as  the  stakes  at 
many  of  these  tables  are  as  low  as  a  single  cash,  few  are  so 
poor  that  they  cannot  make  a  venture.     One  of  the  methods 
has  some  resemblance  to  the  "little  jokers,"  so  well  known  at 
our  race  courses.     The  player  has  three  sticks,  the  ends  of 
which  are  thrust  through  his  fingers.     There  is  a  hole  through 
each  of  the  other  ends,  which  are  held  in  his  hand;  a  cord  is 
passed  through  one  of  them,  and  the  play  consists  in  guessing 
which  one,  as  the  cord  may  be  transferred  from  one  to  the 
other  by  a  quick  movement  of  the  fingers.     I  put  a  "  cash'' 
on  the  board,  make  a  guess,  and  win  a  cake  of  suspicious-look- 
ing candy,  which  I  give  to  the  nearest  boy,  to  the  great  merri- 
ment of  th'i  bystanders.     There  are  also  stands  for  the  sale  of 
pea-nuts,  reminding  us  of  the   classic  side-walks  of  Chatham 
street,  and  for  the  sake  of  Young  America,  we  must  invest  a 
few  cash  in  his  favorite  fruit.    But  here  is  an  entertainment  oi 
an  entirely  novel  character.     A  man  seated  on  the  pavement, 
holds  in  his  hand  a  white  porcelain  tile,  about  a  foot  square. 
This  he  overspreads  with  a  deep-blue   color,  from  a   sponge 
dipped  in  a  thin  paste  of  indigo,  and  asks  us  to  name  a  flowei 
I  suggest  the  lotus.     He  extends  his  fore-finger — a  most  re- 
narkable  fore-finger,  crooked,  flexible  as  an  elephant's  trunk, 
and  as  sha'-p  as  if  the  end  had  been  whittled  off — gives  three  oi 
four  quick  dashes  across  the  tile,  and  in  ten  seconds  or  less 
to !  there  is  the  flower  exquisitely  drawn  and  shaded,  its  snowy 


332  INDIA,    CHINA,    AlTD    JAPAN. 

cup  hanging  in  the  midst  of  its  long  swaying  leaves.  Three 
more  strokes,  and  a  white  bird  with  spread  wings,  hovers  ovei 
it;  two  more,  and  a  dog  stands  beside  it.  The  rapidity  and 
precision  of  that  fore-finger  seem  almost  miraculous.  He 
covers  the  tile  with  new  layers  of  color,  and  flower  after  flowei 
8  dashed  out  of  the  blue  ground. 

The  Chapel  of  the  Baptist  Mission  is  in  a  street  near  the 
Tea  Garden,  and  its  tower,  about  seventy  feet  high,  affords  an 
excellent  panoramic  view  of  the  city  and  surrounding  country. 
Looking  aown  upon  the  city,  we  see  nothing  but  a  mass  of 
peaked  roofs,  covered  with  tiles  which  are  blackened  by  age, 
and  here  and  there  the  open  courts  and  heavier  architecture 
of  temples.  The  serrated  line  of  the  wall  surrounds  it,  and 
the  rich  alluvial  land  extends  wide  beyond,  dotted  with  vil- 
lages, clumps  of  cedar,  groves  of  fruit-trees,  or  the  mounds  of 
ancient  cemeteries.  The  broad  river  winds  through  the  cen 
tre  of  the  landscape,  and  the  number  of  junks  gliding  over  its 
surface  with  their  square  sails  spread  to  the  east  wind,  give 
animation  to  the  scene.  In  front  of  the  city  they  are  an- 
chored in  a  dense  mass  a  mile  in  length,  and  numbering  not 

ess  than  two  thousand.  The  din  of  gongs  and  drums  and  the 
sputtering  of  fire-crackers,  burnt  to  secure  the  aid  of  the  wa- 
ter-gods, reaches  us  at  this  distance.  Eight  or  nine  miles  up 
the  river  stands  a  tall  pagoda,  and  as  the  air  is  clear  to-day 
the  summits  of  "The  Hills,*'  as  they  are  caled  by  the  foreigD 

esidents,  are  faintly  visible  in  the  west.     These  hills,  which 

ire  a  favorite  resort  of  foreigners  during  the  hot  season,  are 
twenty-five  miles  distant.    They  are  the  first  range  which  breaki 

the  vast  level  of  the  plains,  and  command  a  view  of  the  large 


FANCIFUL    SIGNS.  333 

town  of  Soong-Keang  in  the  interior,  and  the  country  stretch 
bg  toward  Soo-Chow. 

Looking  to  the  river,  our  eyes  are  attracted  by  a  large  tea- 
srarehouse,  on  the  wall  of  which  are  painted  four  enormouf 
characters.  Our  missionary  friend  interprets  them  as  signify- 
ing "  The  Place  of  Heavenly  prepared  Leaves."  In  the  fanci- 
ful and  figurative  character  of  their  signs,  the  Chinese  remind 
as  of  the  Arabic  races.  There  is  a  shop  for  the  sale  of  sam- 
shoo,  or  rice-whiskey,  in  Hong-Kong,  which  bears  over  its  door 
the  following  inscription :  "  The  joys  of  Paradise  are  nothing 
but  a  state  of  perpetual  intoxication ! "  The  announcements 
of  vessels  up  for  California  are  headed  with  the  enticing  call : 
'  To  the  Golden  Mountains  I " 

Notwithstanding  the  efforts  of  many  zealous  and  devoted 
missionaries  who  have  been  sent  to  China,  the  number  of  genu- 
ine converts  is  very  limited.  The  Chinese  nature  appears  to  be 
so  thoroughly  passive,  that  it  is  not  even  receptive.  A  sort 
of  listless  curiosity  leads  them  to  fill  the  chapels  of  the  mis- 
sionaries, and  to  gather  in  crowds  around  those  who  preach  in 
the  public  places,  but  when  the  exhortation  is  finished,  away 
they  go,  without  the  least  ripple  of  new  thought  in  the  stag- 
nant waters  of  their  minds.  The  mental  inertia  of  these  people 
seems  to  be  almost  hopeless  of  improvement.  Even  while  the 
present  rebellion  is  going  on — a  struggle  which,  one  would  sup- 
pose, would  enlist  their  sympathies,  if  a  single  spark  of  patriot- 
ism or  ambition  remained — the  great  mass  of  the  people  main- 
tain the  most  profound  apathy.  Some  advocate  of  universal 
peace  has  cited  China  as  the  example  of  a  nation  which  hae 
luccessfully  pursued  a  pacific  policy ;  but  I  say,  welcome  he 
the  thunder-storm  which  shall  scatter  and  break  up,  though  by 


S3 4  INDIA,    CHINA,   AHD   JAPAN. 

the  mdans  of  fire  and  blood,  this  terrible  stagnation  I    Wh 
would  not  exclaim  with  Tennyson: 

•'  Better  fifty  years  of  Europe  than  a  cycle  of  Cathay." 

But  we  are  curious  to  inspect  the  dwelling  of  a  Chinaman 
of  the  better  class,  and  our  friend,  who  is  fortunately  able  to 
assist  us,  conducts  us  to  the  house  of  a  wealthy  old  merchant. 
It  is  a  stone  building,  recently  erected,  and  every  thing  about 
it  indicates  great  neatness,  and  an  approach  to  taste  in  the 
owner.  In  the  open  verandahs  are  boxes  of  the  mau-tan,  or 
rose-scented  peony,  with  gorgeous  white  and  crimson  blossoms, 
and  the  lan-whei^  a  water-plant  of  an  orchideous  nature,  with 
a  long  spike  of  yellowish-green  flowers.  The  mavrtan  also 
decorates  the  rooms,  which  are  hung  with  laiitemL,  of  stained 
glass.  The  furniture  is  of  wood,  of  a  stiff,  uncomfortable  pat- 
tern, but  elaborately  carved.  The  owner,  an  urbane  polite  old 
gentleman,  regales  us  with  cups  of  stewed  tea,  whose  delicate 
aroma  compensates  for  the  absence  of  milk  and  sugar,  and  asks 
us  up  stairs  into  his  library.  The  shelves  are  covered  with 
Chinese  works,  bound  in  their  wooden  covers,  and  in  the  centre 
of  the  room  stands  a  bronze  frame,  with  three  apertures  at  the 
top,  and  a  bundle  of  arrows.  The  latter  are  the  implements 
of  a  game  which  the  host  explains  to  us,  by  taking  the  arrows 
to  the  further  end  of  the  room,  seizing  one  by  the  tip  of  the 
shaft  with  his  thumb  and  fore-fijiger,  and  throwing  it  so  as  to 
fall  into  one  of  the  small  circular  openings  of  the  frame.  We 
try  a  game,  whereof  the  victory,  owing  to  his  more  extensive 
practice,  remains  with  him. 

Toward  the  northern  side  of  the  city  is  the  prison.  On 
each  side  of  the  outer  gate  is  painted  the  figure  of  an  avenging 


A    CHIINE8E   PRISOJU- 


livinity,  whose  black  face  and  glaring  eyeballs  strike  terroi 
into  the  minds  of  the  natives.     This  gate  gives  admittance  to 
a  quadrangular  court,  surrounded  by  ranges  of  cages  or  cells, 
wherein   the  prisoners  are  subjected  to  different  degrees  of 
punishment,  according  to  their  crimes.     Some  are  in  chambers 
divided  by  strong  bamboo  gratings ;  others  at  large,  with  heavy 
shackles  fastened  to  their  legs;  and  the  more  criminal  cases 
are  confined  separately  in  narrow  cages,  which  bind  them  in  the 
smallest  and  most  cramped  space,  with  their  knees  drawn  up 
to  their  chins.     Their  heads  project  through  holes  in  the  top, 
and  as  we  pass,  their  faces  are  turned  to  us  with  a  wild,  haggard 
look  of  suffering.     Some  of  them  have  been  kept  for  weeks, 
immovable  in  those  frames  of  torture,  and  their  condition  is  too 
horrible  for  description.    The  cell  adjoining  that  in  which  they 
lie,  and  divided  from  it  only  by  some  bamboo  stakes,  is  the 
one  appropriated  by  the  Chinese  authorities  for  foreign  pris- 
oners.     On  the  beams  are  carved  a  number  of  names,  princi- 
pally  German,  and  probably  those  of  refractory  sailors.     The 
English  G-overnment,  in  those  ports  where  the  Consul  possesses 
judicial  authority— as   in    China,  Turkey,  and  the  Barbary 
States— always  erects  a  separate  prison  for  the  confinement  of 
English  subjects.     Our  Government,  however,  from  an  admira- 
ble  economy,  prefers  thrusting  its  citizens  into  these  loathsome 
dens,  the  condition  and  associations  of  which  increase  tenfold 
the  horrors  of  imprisonment.     A  few  days  ago  the  entire  crew 
of  an  Amerian  vessel  in  port  passed  a  night  in  the  very  cell 
before  us. 

On  our  way  to  the  city  wall  we  pass  one  of  the  public 
baths,  and  curiosity  induces  us  to  step  in.  The  building  is 
low,  damp  and  dirty,  and  filled  with  a  rank,  steamy,  uncleai 


336  IITOIA,    CHINA,    AND   JAPAN. 

fttmoDphere.  It  consists  of  three  apartments,  in  one  of  which 
the  bathers  undress,  bathe  in  the  next,  and  lounge  smoking  on 
the  benches,  in  an  unembarrassed  state  of  nudity,  in  the  third, 
A.S  it  is  towards  evening,  they  belong  mostly  to  the  lower 
classes,  and  look  quite  as  filthy  after  the  bath  as  before.  Th< 
water  is  not  changed  throughout  the  day,  and  its  appearance 
and  condition  may  perhaps  be  imagined.  The  small  tank  is 
filled  in  the  morning,  and  kept  heated  by  a  farnace  under  it 
The  price  of  a  bath  diminishes  in  proportion  as  the  water  gets 
dirty,  until,  in  the  evening,  it  falls  to  a  single  cash  (the  fifteenth 
part  of  a  cent).  By  holding  my  breath,  I  remain  in  the  dark, 
reeking  den,  long  enough  to  see  two  yellow  forms  immersed  in 
the  turbid  pool,  and  then  rush  out  stifled  and  nauseated. 
Among  the  bathers  in  the  outer  room  there  are  several  strong, 
muscular  figures,  but  a  total  want  of  that  elegant  symmeti-y 
which  distinguishes  the  Caucasian  and  Shemitic  races.  They 
are  broad-shouldered  and  deep-chested,  but  the  hips  and  loins 
are  clumsily  moulded,  and  the  legs  have  a  coarse,  clubby 
character.  We  should  never  expect  to  see  such  figures  assume 
the  fine,  free  attitudes  of  ancient  sculpture.  But  here,  as  every 
where,  the  body  is  the  expression  of  the  spiritual  nature. 
There  is  no  sense  of  what  wc  understand  by  Art — Grace,  Har- 
mony, Proportion — in  the  Chinese  nature,  and  therefore  we 
look  in  vain  for  any  physical  expression  of  it.  De  Quincey, 
who  probably  never  saw  a  Chinaman,  saw  this  fact  with  the 
elairvoyant  eye  of  genius,  when  he  said :  "  If  I  were  con- 
demned to  live  among  the  Chinese,  I  should  go  mad."  Thii 
is  a  strong  expression,  but  I  do  not  hesitate  to  adopt  it. 

Before  terminating  this  long  and,  perhaps,  wearisome  ram* 
ble,  let  ns  enter  the  great  temple  of  the  tutelar  divinity  d/ 


BOODH  AT    BUHSET.  337 

Shanghai.  The  obese  idol,  cross-legged,  and  with  bis  hand#^ 
upon  his  knees,  is  fifteen  feet  high,  and  seated  upon  a  pedestai 
of  about  twelve  feet.  He  is  gilded  from  head  to  foot,  and' 
looms  grandly  through  the  dusk  of  the  lofty  hall.  On  each 
side  are  the  gilded  statues  of  nine  renowned  Chinese  saint? 
and  sages— eighteen  in  all— of  the  size  of  life.  The  sacred 
drum,  four  or  five  feet  in  diameter,  and  raised  on  a  prop  of 
heavy  timbers,  stands  on  one  side  of  the  entrance,  and  the  great 
bell — e  universal  feature  of  Boodhist  temples— on  the  other. 
We  beat  the  drum  and  strike  the  bell  with  a  mallet,  until 
the  temple  rings  with  a  peal  of  barbaric  sound.  The  priesta 
look  on,  smiling,  for  the  act  is  not  one  of  irreverence,  but  of 
devotion,  in  their  eyes,  and  while  we  are  amusing  ourselves,  we 
do  homage  to  the  great  Boodh.  The  broad  interior  of  the 
temple  is  dusky  with  the  evening  shadows,  when  the  last  red 
beam  of  sunset,  falling  through  an  upper  window,  strikes  full 
upon  the  golden  face  of  the  god,  lighting  that  only,  so  that  the 
large  features  blaze  upon  us  out  of  the  gloom,  as  if  moulded  in 
living  fire.  It  is  as  if  Boodh  had  asserted  his  insulted  majesty, 
and  while  he  is  thus  transfigured  we  own  that  he  is  sublime. 

On  our  return  to  the  foreign  settlement,  we  hear  loud, 
humming  noises  in  the  air,  and  looking  up,  see  a  strange  collec- 
tion of  monsters  hovering  in  the  sky.  An  enormous  bird,  with 
outspread  wings  of  red  and  gold,  is  soaring  directly  over  our 
heads ;  a  centipede,  twenty  feet  long,  is  wriggling  yonder ;  a 
fanciful  dragon  shoots  hither  and  thither ;  and  a  mandarin,  in 
his  robes  of  state,  makes  his  airy  ko-iows,  or  salutations,  to  the 
gazers  below.  The  natives  are  indulging  in  their  national 
Amusement  of  kite-flying,  and  as  long  as  there  is  light  enough 
left  they  will  continue,  with  the  eagerness  of  children,  to  m» 
15 


338 


INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 


noBUTre  their  painted  toys.     We  draw  a  long  breath  of  relief 
when  we  have  passed  the  wall  and  the  muddy  creek,  and  as  we 
walk  homeward,  mentally  revolve   the  question,  whether  it  is 
worth  satisfying  one's  curiosity  at  the  expense  of  so  much  an 
noyauce  and  disgust. 


CHAPTER    XXVII 

■  ABTHQUAKE8      AND     OFFICIAL     VISITS. 

iu  Earthquake— Sensations  it  Produced— Its  Effects— Addition  a  Shocks— The  Bow » 
Ing  Alley— Hairs  In  the  Soil— A  Shower  of  Sand— Visit  of  the  Taou-tai  to  Col, 
Marshall— Chinese  Visiting  Cards — The  Taou-tai's  Appearance — Reception  of  th« 
Dignitaries— A  Chinese  Military  Review- The  Soldiers  and  their  Equipments— 
Their  Discipline— Uncouth  Weapons — Absurdity  of  the  Parade — The  Commlssionei 
visits  the  Taou-tai— Reception— The  Taou-tai's  Residence— Chinese  Refreshment*— 
Departure. 

Our  attention  was  for  a  time  diverted  from  iLe  alarm  and  ex- 
citement occasioned  by  rumors  of  the  approach  of  the  rebels, 
through  the  unexpected  visitation  of  an  earthquake,  which 
occurred  on  Thursday  night,  the  14th  of  April.  On  that 
evening,  M.  de  Montigny,  the  French  Consul,  entertained  CoL 
Marshall  at  dinner.  Capt.  Buchanan  and  Purser  Barry,  of 
the  Susquehanna,  Mr.  Cunningham,  Capt.  de  Plas,  of  the 
French  steamer  Cassini,  and  several  other  gentlemen  were 
present.  About  a  quarter  past  11  o'clock,  as  the  guests  were 
taking  leave,  some  of  them  being  still  in  the  passage,  putting 
on  their  overcoats,  for  it  was  a  dark,  drizzling  night,  there  was 
a  sudden,  violent  noise,  the  timbers  of  the  house  cracking  and 
the  walls  swaying  to  and  fro.  I  was  standing  just  under  the 
eaves  at  the  tim^,  and  my  first  impression  was  that  the  building 
vraa  tumbling  down  upon  me.     I  made  a  spring  into  the  court, 


340  IITDIAy   CHmA,   AND   JAPAN. 

with,  a  strange  feeling  of  bewilderment,  for  every  thing  wai 
reeling  and  unsteady.  All  this  was  the  work  of  an  instant 
There  was  a  cry  from  the  ladies  within,  and  they  came  rushing 
out  in  great  terror,  exclaiming:  "an  earthquake!  an  earth 
quake !  "  We  stood  in  the  open  court-yard,  awaiting  a  second 
shock.  The  earth  continued  to  heave  with  a  slow,  regular 
motion,  gradually  diminishing,  until  the  throbs  ceased.  It 
produced  a  slight  giddiness  and  nausea  in  some  of  us.  Im- 
mediately after  the  shock  passed  away,  a  wild  outcry  arose 
from  the  Chinese  city,  and  the  large  woodeu  drums  in  the  tem- 
ples were  heard  sounding  far  and  near.  The  object  of  thig 
was  to  soothe  the  great  fish  upon  which  the  earth  rests,  and  by 
whose  uneasiness  the  earthquake  was  caused. 

On  reaching  the  Consulate,  we  found  that  everybody  in  the 
house  had  felt  the  shock,  and  the  chandeliers  in  the  drawing- 
room  were  still  vibrating  from  it.  Mr.  L.,  one  of  the  clerks, 
stated  that  his  attention  was  first  called  to  it  by  seeing  several 
doors  which  had  been  locked,  fly  open  without  any  apparent 
agency.  In  the  other  house  belonging  to  Russell  &  Co.,  a 
chimney  was  thrown  down,  and  one  of  the  joists  drawn  from 
its  socket  and  forced  through  the  ceiling.  About  fifteen  yards 
of  a  high  brick  wall  around  Mr.  Nye's  house  was  overthrown, 
and  a  large  Chinese  warehouse  in  the  city  almost  entirely  de- 
stroyed. The  dogs  (of  which  there  is  no  scarcity  in  Shanghai) 
howled  dismally  while  the  motion  lasted.  The  direction  of 
the  wave  was  from  north  east  to  south-west,  and  the  extent  of 
its  motion  was,  I  should  judge,  about  two  feet.  Shanghai  ip 
subject  to  slight  shock.?,  but  this  was  the  most  severe  which 
had  been  felt  for  several  years.     The  nearest  volcanoes  are  iv 


EFFECTS  OP  THE  EARTHQUAKE.  341 

the  Japanese  island  of  Kiusiu,  about  six  hundred  miles  dis 
tant 

About  midnight  two  additional  shocks  were  felt,  but  they 
were  much  lighter  than  the  first.  On  retiring  to  rest,  we 
found  that  a  number  of  articles  in  the  rooms  had  been  thrown 
upon  the  floor.  In  the  morning  I  walked  up  to  the  northern 
part  of  the  settlement,  where  the  shock  appeared  to  have  been 
much  more  violent  than  at  the  southern  end.  In  Mr.  Nye'a 
godown  (warehouse)  the  heavy  bales  of  goods  were  hurled  from 
\heir  places.  Several  chimneys  were  sprung  and  walls  cracked, 
but  the  nature  of  the  soil  on  which  Shanghai  stands — an 
elastic,  clayey  loam,  two  hundred  feet  in  depth — saved  the 
place  from  greater  injury.  In  company  with  some  friends  I 
went  to  the  bowling-alley,  the  walls  of  which  had  previously 
showed  a  disposition  to  give  way,  and  were  supported  on  one 
side  by  props.  After  playing  an  hour  or  two,  we  noticed  that 
the  southern  wall  had  suddenly  sunk  outwards  more  than  six 
inches,  and  was  cracked  from  top  to  bottom.  There  had  been, 
in  fact,  another  smart  shock  at  that  very  time,  and  we  had  not 
perceived  it.  The  props  alone  prevented  the  whole  building 
from  coming  down  upon  our  heads. 

The  Chinese  servants  stated  in  the  morning  that  hairs  were 
always  found  in  the  earth  after  an  earthquake,  and  brought  up 
two  or  three  gray  horse-hairs — or  what  appeared  to  be  such — 
which  they  professed  to  have  found  in  the  yard.  Several  of  the 
gentlemen  immediately  went  down  and  commenced  searching, 
and  to  their  astonishment  found  numbers  of  gray  filaments  from 
four  to  ten  inches  long.  They  projected  two  or  three  inches 
from  the  soil,  and  were  most  abundant  among  the  grass.  Thej 
were  strong,  like  a  coarse  hempen  fibre,  and  were  readily  drawi 


342  IIJDIA,   CHINA)    AND    JAPAN. 

out  without  breaking.  After  a  careful  examination  with  a 
powerful  magnifying  glass,  it  was  found  that  they  had  not  the 
tubular  structure  of  hair,  but  what  they  were  and  whence  thej 
came,  was  a  mystery.  Some  of  the  profane  summarily  ac- 
counted for  them  by  declaring  that  the  shock  of  the  earthquake 
caused  the  earth's  hair  to  stand  on  end,  from  fright.  Thej 
were  picked  up  in  nearly  all  the  gardens  in  town.  The  Chinese 
say  they  are  only  found  for  three  days  after  a  shock,  which,  so 
far  as  I  could  learn,  also  proved  correct. 

Another  circumstance  attending  the  earthquake,  was  the 
shower  of  fine  dust,  which  fell  for  two  or  three  days  afterwards. 
The  same  thing  was  noticed  after  the  earthquake  of  1846, 
which  was  less  violent.  The  wind  was  from  the  north-west, 
and  the  sand,  which  some  suppose  to  come  from  the  great 
Desert  of  Kobi,  in  the  interior  of  China,  was  so  fine  as  to  be 
impalpable,  yet  filled  the  air  to  such  an  extent  that  the  sun 
was  covered  with  a  yellow  film,  and  the  view  obscured  as  by  a 
thick  haze.  The  Chinese  reported  that  a  town  about  thirty 
miles  distant  had  been  entirely  swallowed  up,  and  that  a  tract 
of  land  a  mile  square  had  sunk,  and  had  been  replaced  by  a 
deep  lake.  We  decided  at  once  to  pay  a  visit  to  the  spot,  but 
on  inquiry  found  so  many  contradictory  stories  regarding  it, 
that  it  was  quite  impossible  to  discover  where  the  town  was. 
There  were  three  or  four  slight  shocks  afterwards  at  intervals 
of  two  or  three  days. 

On  the  9th  of  April,  the  Taou-tai  of  Shanghai  paid  an 
official  visit  to  Col.  Marshall,  and  to  the  frigate  Susquehanna. 
He  had  given  notice  of  his  intention  two  days  before,  and 
came  in  state,  attended  by  four  mandarins,  and  with  a  long 
♦•etinue  of  pcarecrow  followers.     A  little  in  advance  of  thoir 


CHINEbE    VISITIBO   CABDB.  •  34S 

arrival,  the  cards  of  the  dignitaries  were  sent  to  the  Ccmmia 
sioner.  They  were  long  slips  of  crimson  paper,  inscribed  with 
rows  of  glaring  hieroglyphics,  and  enclosed  in  crimson  envelopes, 
The  Taou-tai's  ran  thus  :•  "  Woo-keen-chang,  of  the  Ta-Tsing 
Empire,  by  Imperial  appointment  Salt  Commissioner,  Inten* 
dant  of  the  Circuit  of  the  Prefectures  of  Soo-Chow,  Soong 
Keang  and  Tae-Tsung,  in  the  province  of  Keang-nan,  holding 
the  rank  of  Judge,  promoted  five  degrees,  &c.,  presents  hia 
compliments."  One  of  the  others  was  still  more  remarkable : 
"  Lan-wei-wan,  of  the  Ta-Tsing  Empire,  Haefung  of  the  Pre- 
fecture of  Shanghai,  in  the  province  of  Keang-soo,  and  expec- 
tant of  the  office  of  Prefect,  knocks  his  head  and  presents 
compliments."  How  titles  would  multiply  in  America,  if  all 
the  "  expectants"  of  office  adopted  this  plan !  "We  should  be 
overrun  with  such  characters  as — Hon.  Elijah  Pogram,  Ex- 
pectant Minister  to  Russia;  Jedediah  Peabody,  Expectant 
Collector  of  Sag-Harbor — and  so  to  the  end  of  the  chapter. 

The  Taou-tai  was  received  with  all  due  distinction,  and  hia 
interview  with  the  Commissioner  lasted  about  an  hour.  He 
was  a  small  man,  near  fifty  years  of  age  (his  mustache  denot- 
ing a  grandfather) ;  his  complexion  was  a  pale,  bloodless  yellow, 
his  eyes  lively  and  piercing,  and  his  rather  contracted  features 
expressed  a  keen,  shrewd  and  unscrupulous  character.  He  was 
formerly  a  hong  merchant  Df  Canton,  and  is  still  best  known  to 
foreigners  by  his  old  name  of  Sam-qua.  He  spoke  the  "  pigeon 
English,"  or  commercial  jargon,  with  tolerable  fluency,  though 
the  conversation  was  partly  carried  on  in  Chinese,  by  Dr.  Par- 
ker. He  was  dressed  in  robes  of  a  rich,  stiff  silk,  embroidered 
with  the  insignia  of  his  office,  and  wore  a  cap  with  the  single 
peacock's  feather  and  opaque  red  button  of  a  mandarin  of  the 


344  IBDIA,   CHIBA,   AJSTD   JAPAN. 

fchird  class.  In  Ms  suite  was  the  Colonel  of  the  regular  troops 
Btationed  at  Shanghai — a  tall,  dignified  old  mandarin,  who  con- 
ducted himself  with  a  grave  and  courteous  dignity,  beside  which 
the  Taou-tai,  with  his  fidgety  and  undecided  manners,  showed  to 
disadvantage.  On  entering  the  room  where  the  Commissioner 
received  them,  they  all  performed  the  Ko-toWy  or  national 
salutation,  by  clasping  their  hands  in  front  of  their  breasts,  and 
bowing  profoundly  with  a  shaky  motion,  like  those  porcelain 
mandarins  with  which  we  are  all  familiar.  They  were  regaled 
with  tea,  champagne  and  port,  and  took  wine  with  great  gravity, 
rising  and  bowing  profoundly  when  they  drank.  After  leaving 
the  Commissioner  they  went  on  board  the  Susquehanna,  where 
Capt.  Buchanan  received  them  with  a  salute  of  nine  guns. 
They  all  expressed  the  greatest  astonishment  and  admiration 
at  the  size  and  strength  of  the  vessel. 

During  the  visit,  Col.  Marshall  expressed  a  wish  to  witneea 
a  review  of  the  Chinese  garrison  of  Shanghai,  and  the  Taou- 
tai  at  one  promised  to  make  a  public  display  of  the  troops,  in 
order  to  exhibit  his  military  resources  to  the  foreign  commu- 
nity. Accordingly,  as  we  were  entering  the  city  the  next  after- 
noon, a  frightful  clamor  of  gongs  announced  the  approach  of 
some  unusual  spectacle,  and  we  soon  became  aware  that  the 
Taou-tai  was  fulfilling  his  promise.  First  came  half-a-dozen  old 
six-pounders,  mounted  on  clumsy  carriages,  which  made  ti 
frightful  clatter  as  they  rolled  over  the  rough  pavement. 
They  were  followed  by  porters  bearing  chests  of  ammunition, 
slung  from  bamboo  poles ;  then  a  company  of  soldiers  in  dark 
blue  dresses,  with  a  circular  coat-of-arms  on  the  breast  and 
back,  armed  with  long  spears ;  another  company,  with  ginjalls, 
t  long,  heavy  stock,  mounted  on  a  tripod  when  it  is  fired,  and 


A   CHINESE   MILITABY   DISPLAY.  34£ 

/jarrying  a  ball  about  the  size  of  a  grape-shot;  afterwards 
more  spearmen,  alternating  with  companies  of  matchlocks, 
and  followed  by  more  lumbering  six-pounders,  chests  of  am- 
munition, gongs,  yellow  banners,  covered  with  hieroglyphics, 
and  other  curious  and  fantastic  objects — the  procession  rushing 
along  without  order  or  organization,  shouting  and  laughing,  oi 
brandishing  their  arms  in  the  most  uncouth  and  barbaric  style 
Such  a  display  never  was  witnessed  in  Shanghai  before.  There 
were  about  four  hundred  regular  soldiers,  some  of  whom  were 
exceedingly  well-formed,  lusty  men,  and  clothed  in  an  appro- 
priate costume — a  short  tunic  girdled  around  the  waist,  full 
trowsers  gathered  at  the  knees,  and  tight  leggings — but  the 
greater  portion  were  evidently  porters  and  peasants,  hired  for 
the  ocasion,  to  swell  the  ranks  of  the  soldiery,  and  produce  an 
impression  of  the  Imperial  power. 

There  were  in  the  procession  some  very  curious  weapons, 
which  I  do  not  suppose  any  other  army  in  the  world  can  ex- 
hibit. In  addition  to  pikes  for  sticking  the  enemy,  poles  for 
punching  them,  clubs  for  beating  them,  and  flails  for  threshing 
their  heads,  I  saw  some  wooden  beams  about  five  feet  long 
with  handles  at  each  end,  the  use  of  which  is — to  push  them 
out  of  the  way  /  When  part  of  the  procession  was  retarded 
at  any  point,  the  companies  behind  them  made  up  the  loss,  by 
rushing  down  the  street  at  full  speed,  leaping  in  the  air  as  they 
went,  charging  with  their  lances,  swinging  their  flails  and 
shaking  their  clubs,  with  cries  which  were  meant  to  be  terrific, 
but  which  were  ludicrous  in  the  extreme.  Among  the  officers 
who  rode  on  shaggy  native  ponies,  we  recognized  the  venerable 
Colonel,  who  bowed  to  us  with  a  touch  of  pride  in  passing, 
Last  of  all,  preceded  by  yellow  banners  and  a  deafening  tern 
15* 


346  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

pest  of  gongs,  came  the  Taou-tai  himself,  in  his  green  Bedao 
chair,  followed  by  the  Government  executioners,  in  red  dressep 
and  high  conical  caps,  decorated  with  the  long  tail  feathers  (A 
the  pheasant.  The  grave  and  self-satisfied  air  cf  the  high 
official  was  most  amusing.  The  whole  thing  was  like  a  Chinese 
travesty  of  Don  Quixote.  After  parading  through  the  prin- 
cipal streets  of  the  foreign  settlement,  the  procession  returned 
to  the  city,  which  it  entered  by  the  western  gate. 

A  few  days  afterwards.  Col.  Marshall  returned  the  visit  of 
the  Taou-tai,  at  his  official  residence  within  the  city.  He  waa 
accompanied  by  Dr.  Parker,  Secretary  of  Legation,  and  Mr. 
Cunningham,  Vice-ConsuL  The  party  set  out  in  sedan  chairs, 
crimson  cards  having  been  sent  in  advance,  according  to  Chinese 
custom.  Along  the  way — a  distance  of  a  mile  or  more — the 
Taou-tai  had  stationed  attendants  with  gongs,  which  were  dire- 
fuUy  beaten,  as  we  passed.  It  was  a  raw,  rainy  day,  and  the 
streets  had  more  than  their  usual  quantity  of  mud  and  filtk 
After  entering  the  city  gate,  I,  who  was  last  in  the  procession, 
was  rather  startled  at  finding  my  chair  suddenly  dropped  in  the 
mnd.  Looking  out,  I  found  the  bearers  deliberately  bargaining 
at  a  stall  for  new  straw-sandals,  which  they  purchased  and  put 
on  their  feet  leisurely  enough,  before  they  picked  me  up  again. 
On  reaching  the  Taou-tai 's  residence,  the  salute  of  three  gims 
had  been  fired,  and  the  discordant  noises  of  a  dozen  dire  instru- 
ments were  dying  away.  I  was  carried  through  a  wooden  por- 
tal of  a  dark-red  color,  across  a  paved  court-yard,  and  finally 
deposited  in  a  portico  or  verandah,  where  the  Taou-tai  had  just 
formally  received  the  Commissioner  and  the  rest  of  his  suite 
The  attendants  made  a  loud  announcement  of  some  kind  as  I 


VISIT    TO    THE    TAOU-TAI.  347 

passed  tlie  portal,  which  was  repeated  from  one  to  the  other, 
till  it  reached  the  Taou-tai  at  the  same  time  with  myselfl 

We  were  conducted  through  a  plain  but  spacious  hall,  open 
on  two  sides  to  the  air,  across  a  small  inner  court,  and  into 
another  hall,  or  audience-room,  partially  closed  by  movable 
screens.  It  was  gaudily  furnished,  but  without  an  extravagant 
show  of  wealth.  The  predominant  color  was  dark-red,  and 
the  walls  were  relieved  with  painted  tablets  of  light-blue  or 
green,  containing  long  inscriptions.  The  floor  was  covered 
with  a  red  felt  cloth,  and  straight-backed  chairs  of  camphor- 
wood  were  placed  around  small  tables  of  the  same  material, 
containing  boxes  of  sweetmeats.  The  Commissioner  was  con- 
ducted to  a  raised  divan  in  the  centre,  covered  with  red  cloth, 
upon  which  he  and  the  Taou-tai  seated  themselves,  with  refresh- 
ments between  them.  The  latter  was  more  at  his  ease  than  on 
the  former  occasion,  and  did  the  honors  of  his  mansion  with 
more  grace  than  I  had  anticipated.  The  conversation  was 
animated,  and  principally  of  a  general  nature,  though  he  made 
occasional  reference  to  the  rebellion.  After  his  manifestoes 
concerning  the  success  of  the  Imperialists,  I  did  not  consider 
his  expressions  on  the  subject  as  worthy  of  much  attention, 
and  the  commencement  of  the  material  part  of  the  entertain- 
ment soon  gave  me  a  more  interesting  field  of  observation. 

Cups  of  birds-nest  soup  were  presented  to  us,  together  with 
porcelain  spoons  and  chop-sticks  of  ivory  and  silver.  This 
curious  dish  fully  justifies  the  taste  of  the  Chinese ;  it  is  exceed- 
mgly  delicate  and  nutritious.  The  Chinese  wine,  served  warm, 
•n  square  silver  cups,  was  also  quite  palatable,  and  there  was 
a  preparation  of  almonds,  sugar,  and  rice  flour,  boiled  into  a 
paste,  to  which  we  all  did  full  justice.    It  was,  however,  a  light 


348 


INDIA,    CHINA,    AND   JAPAN. 


collation  rather  than  a  regular  meal,  and  the  greater  part  con 
sisted  of  dried  and  candied  fruits,  such  as  oranges,  dates,  citrons 
and  various  kinds  of  nuts.  At  the  conclusion  segars  were 
offered  to  us,  while  the  Taou-tai  took  his  bamboo  pipe.  There 
was  a  host  of  attendants,  all  prompt,  silent,  and  respectful. 
Sam-qua  was  too  long  a  resident  of  Canton,  not  to  have  taken 
some  hints  from  the  habits  of  the  foreign  merchants  there. 

At  OUT  doparture,  he  accompanied  the  Commissioner  to  the 
outer  court.  Three  guns  were  fired  off  as  the  chair  of  the  lat- 
ter passed  through  the  portal ;  the  musicians,  stationed  in  a 
gallery  on  the  side  of  the  court,  struck  up  a  horrible  discord, 
which  made  the  gongs  that  sounded  along  our  homeward 
march  melodious  by  contrast.  The  curious  natives  thronged 
the  streets,  to  stare  at  us,  and  it  was  a  relief  when  we  readied 
the  foreign  suburb  of  Shanghai. 


CHAPTER    XXVIII. 

INCIDENTS     OF     LIFE     IN     SHANQHAI. 

Spring  at  Shanghai— Appearance  of  the  Country— Crops— National  Conveyance  ci 
China— Houses  of  the  Lower  Classes— Sail  on  the  Elver— The  Pagoda— Village 
Market— Sweetmeats  and  Children— Showers  of  Cash — Chinese  Horticultural  Exhi- 
bition— The  Lan-whei — Chinese  Love  of  Monstrosity— Moral  Depravity  of  the  Eaoe 
—Landscape  Gardening— A  Soldier  and  his  Drill-The  Cangue— Visit  of  the  HermM 
to  Nanking— The  Rebels— Their  Christianity— Condition  of  the  City— Arrival  of  th« 
U.  S.  Steatn-Frigate  Mississippi— Q^mva<Aox&  Perry— CoL  Marshall's  Chinese 
Dinner — Mr.  Robert  Fortune. 

Spring,  at  Shanghai,  comes  slowly.  When  we  arrived,  at  the 
close  of  March,  the  trees  were  budding  into  leaf,  but  did  not 
attain  their  fall  foliage  before  the  middle  of  May.  The  wea- 
ther during  April  was  dull  and  showery,  with  a  lower  temper- 
ature than  would  be  looked  for  elsewhere  in  the  same  latitude. 
There  was  scarcely  an  evening  when  fire  was  not  necessary  to 
our  comfort.  Until  all  the  summer  crops  had  been  planted, 
and  for  a  week  or  two  afterwards,  there  was  little  satisfaction 
in  going  into  the  country,  where  the  vernal  odors  of  grass 
and  flowers  were  wholly  lost  in  the  intolerable  stench  arising 
from  pits  of  manure.  But  towards  the  end  of  April,  when  the 
rumors  of  war  became  less  frequent,  when  the  shocks  of  earth 


350  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND   JAPAN. 

q[uakes  had  subsided,  and  the  sun  made  his  appearance  from 
time  to  time,  I  took  many  afternoon  strolls  in  various  direc- 
tions, and  became  familiar  with  the  country  life  of  the 
Chinese. 

There  is  nothing  striking  or  picturesque  in  the  scenery  of 
this  pan  of  China.  The  country  is  a  dead  level,  watered  with 
sluggish  creeks,  and  intersected  with  ditches  and  canals.  It  is 
studded  far  and  near  with  shapeless  mounds  of  earth  erected 
over  obsolete  natives;  sparingly  dotted  with  clumps  of  dark 
3edar-trees  or  plantations  of  the  inestimable  bamboo,  and  enli- 
vened by  occasional  hamlets,  which,  shaded  with  bushy  willows, 
have  a  pleasant,  rural  aspect  when  seen  from  a  distance,  but 
are  mostly  disgusting  when  you  draw  near.  The  soil  is  a  verj 
rich  clayey  loam,  and  yields  abundant  crops  of  rice,  wheat, 
sweet  potatoes,  beets,  beans,  pea-nuts,  and  the  other  staples  of 
Chinese  food.  Much  of  it  must  have  been  originally  marsh 
land,  which  has  been  drained  by  canals  and  the  gradual  rise 
of  the  coast,  from  the  deposits  of  the  Yang-tse-Kiang.  The 
paths  from  village  to  village  are  on  narrow  dykes,  winding  be- 
tween the  fields,  and  crossing  the  ditches  by  bridges  formed  oi 
single  large  slabs  of  granite,  which  are  brought  down  from  the 
hills.  Occasionally  you  see  a  highway,  six  or  eight  feet  broad, 
pared  with  blocks  of  stone,  laid  transversely,  but  I  doubt 
whether  a  carriage  could  go  in  any  direction  further  than  two 
or  three  miles  from  the  city.  I  sometimes  met  a  Chinaman 
of  the  better  class  mounted  on  a  sturdy  little  pony,  and  once 
encountered  a  traveller  from  So o- Chow  in  the  national  coit 
veyance  of  China — the  wheelbarrow!  He  was  seated  side» 
ways,  with  his  legs  dangling  below,  while  his  baggage,  placed 
on  the  opposite  side,  served  to  trim  the  vehicle.    It  was  a  one- 


HOUSES  OF  THE  LOWEE  CLASSES.  35 j 

horse  wheelbarrow,  propelled  by  a  stout  coolie,  with  a  strap 
over  his  shoulders,  and  made  a  doleful  creaking  as  it  passed 
The  persons  whom  I  met  showed  every  sign  of  civility  and  re- 
spect, and  had  time  permitted,  I  might  have  extended  my  strolls 
to  a  distance  of  thirty  or  forty  miles,  without  meeting  any  hin- 
drance. In  the  villages  I  frequently  entered  the  houses  of  the 
people,  to  which  they  made  no  objection,  but  seemed  rather 
gratified  at  the  distinction.  The  domestic  arrangements  were 
very  simple ;  the  dwellings  were  all  of  one  story,  rarely  having 
more  than  two  rooms,  and  containing  only  the  rudest  appliances 
of  a  household.  The  beds  were  usually  of  matting,  with  bam- 
boo pillows,  but  the  poorer  natives  slept  upon  coarse  mats  laid 
upon  the  earth,  with  wooden  stools  under  their  heads.  It 
is  not  advisable  to  be  too  curious,  or  to  spend  much  time  in 
inspecting  Chinese  dwellings,  on  account  of  their  abundant 
vitality.  For  the  same  reason,  many  features  of  domestic  life 
among  the  lower  classes  must  be  passed  over  in  silence. 

We  made  an  excursion  one  morning  to  the  pagoda,  which 
stands  on  the  left  bank  of  the  Whang-po  River,  about  eight 
miles  above  the  city.  The  wind  was  fair,  and  Mr.  Cunning- 
ham's  fleet  clipper-yacht  soon  carried  us  past  the  thousand 
junks  and  notched  brick  walls  of  Shanghai.  It  was  in  the  be- 
ginning of  May,  and  the  shores,  low  and  greenly  wooded,  bore 
some  resemblance  to  those  of  the  Delaware,  below  Philadel- 
phia. We  passed  several  large  junks,  which  had  come  through 
from  the  Bay  of  Hang-Chow,  by  a  canal  which  leads  from  the 
old  city  of  Chapoo  to  the  Whang-po  River.  After  a  run  of 
Bn  hour  and  half,  we  moored  the  yacht  at  the  mouth  of  a  small 
creek,  and  walked  to  the  pagoda,  which  was  a  quarter  of  8 
mile  distant.     It  is  built  of  pale  red  sandstone,  and  with  its 


352  INDIA,   CHINA,   JlSD   JAPAN. 

ten  stories  diminisliiiig  in  beautiful  proportion,  each  ovei 
hung  bj  a  pointed,  up-tumed  roof,  it  is  truly  a  graceful  ob 
ject.  The  pagodas  are  the  only  symmetrical  things  in 
Chinese  architecture,  and  I  think  it  doubtful  whether  the  idea 
of  them  was  not  first  borrowed  from  India.  All  of  those  whicl 
I  saw,  or  which  travellers  generally  see  in  China,  are  compa- 
ratively modern. 

There  was  a  little  village  scattered  about  the  foot  of  the 
structure,  and  the  country  people  were  holding  a  market  there. 
The  supply  of  vegetables,  sweetmeats,  and  cheap,  coarse  articles 
of  dress  was  very  large:  the  jugglers  were  present  in  strong 
force,  and  the  beggars  were  over-zealous  in  their  attendance, 
I  amused  myself  with  buying  many  varieties  of  nondescript 
pastry  and  confects,  at  such  cheap  rates,  that  it  was  difficult  to 
pay  little  enough.  I  then  distributed  my  purchases  among  the 
children,  the  larger  of  whom  took  them  with  avidity,  while 
the  younger  and  more  shy  held  back  from  the  foreign  barba- 
rian, until  encouraged  by  their  pleased  parents.  To  escape 
from  the  popularity  which  followed,  we  climbed  to  the  summit 
of  the  pagoda,  whence  we  beheld  a  circular  panorama,  de- 
scribed by  a  radius  of  twenty-five  miles.  It  was  beautiful 
only  from  its  extent,  and  its  monotony  of  green,  through  which 
wandered  a  few  brown  veins  of  rivers.  I  soon  turned  to  con- 
template the  more  animated  manscape  at  my  feet.  Seeing  a 
crowd  of  beggars  standing  together  in  dejected  attitudes,  I 
east  a  handful  of  cash  into  the  air,  in  such  wise  that  the  coine 
would  fall  plump  among  them,  and  then  dropped  behind  th» 
parapet  of  the  pagoda.  There  was  a  metallic  rattle  on  the 
stones,  followed  by  a  cry  of  amazement,  for  nothing  was  visi* 
ble,  of  course,  and  they  had  not  seen  us  ascend  the  pagoda. 


A     iJHINESE    FLORAL    EXHIBITION.  35c 

Several  other  miraculous  showers  followed,  but  a  desire  -o  see 
the  beggars  scramble,  betrayed  us  at  last.  We  were  greeted 
with  loud  cries,  and  arms  thrown  greedily  aloft,  beckoning 
for  more.  I  cast  among  them  upwards  of  twenty  handfuls,  and 
by  thus  expending  the  munificent  sum  of  forty  cents,  enjoyed 
the  feelings  of  a  monarch,  who  scatters  golden  largesse. 

One  day  I  attended  a  native  horticultural  exhibition, 
which  was  held  in  an  old  temple,  within  the  walls.  The  open 
courts  of  the  building  were  filled  with  rows  of  flowering 
plants,  in  earthen  pots  and  vases,  which  were  also  arranged  in 
circles  around  some  weak  fountains  in  the  centre.  There 
were  some  fine  specimens  of  the  mau-tan,  or  peony,  white,  pink, 
and  crimson,  and  with  an  odor  very  similar  to  that  of  the  rose; 
but  the  most  admired  flower  seemed  to  be  the  lan-whei,  a  bul- 
bous water-plant,  with  a  blossom  resembling  that  of  the  orchids 
in  form,  yet  of  a  dirty  yellowish-green  hue.  The  great  aim 
of  the  Chinese  florist  is  to  produce  something  as  much  unlike 
nature  as  possible,  and  thus  this  blossom,  which,  for  aught  I 
know,  may  be  pure  white,  or  yellow,  in  its  native  state,  ia 
changed  into  a  sickly,  mongrel  color,  as  if  it  were  afflicted 
with  a  vegetable  jaundice,  or  leprosy.  There  was  a  crowd  of 
enthusiastic  admirers  around  each  of  the  ugliest  specimens,  and 
I  was  told  that  one  plant,  which  was  absolutely  loathsome  and 
repulsive  in  its  appearance,  was  valued  at  three  hundred 
dollars.  The  only  taste  which  the  Chinese  exhibit  to  any 
degree,  is  a  love  of  the  monstrous.  That  sentiment  of  harmo- 
ay,  which  throbbed  like  a  musical  rhythm  through  the  life  of 
the  Greeks,  never  looked  out  of  their  oblique  eyes.  Theii 
mnsic  is  a  dreadful  discord;  their  language  is  composed  of  na 
sale  and  consonants;  they  admire  whatever  is  distorted  or  ur 


354  INDIA,  chuja,  and  japah. 

Qatural,  and  the  wider  its  divergence  from  its  original  beautr^ 
or  symmetry,  the  greater  is  their  delight. 

This  mental  idiosyncrasy  includes  a  moral  one,  of  similai 
character.  It  is  my  deliberate  opinion  that  the  Chinese  are, 
morally,  the  most  debased  people  on  the  face  of  the  earth. 
Forms  of  vice  which  in  other  countries  are  barely  named,  are 
in  China  so  common,  that  they  excite  no  comment  among  the 
natives.  They  constitute  the  surface-level,  and  below  them 
there  are  deeps  on  deeps  of  depravity  so  shocking  and  horrible, 
that  their  character  cannot  even  be  hinted.  There  are  some 
dark  shadows  in  human  nature,  which  we  naturally  shrink 
from  penetrating,  and  I  made  no  attempt  to  collect  informa- 
tion of  this  kind;  but  there  was  enough  in  the  things  which  I 
could  not  avoid  seeing  and  hearing — which  are  brought  almost 
daily  to  the  notice  of  every  foreign  resident — to  inspire  me 
with  a  powerful  aversion  to  the  Chinese  race.  Their  touch  is 
pollution,  and,  harsh  as  the  opinion  may  seem,  justice  to  our 
own  race  demands  that  they  should  not  be  allowed  to  settle 
on  our  soiL  Science  may  have  lost  something,  but  mankind 
has  gained,  by  the  exclusive  policy  which  has  governed  China 
during  the  past  centuries. 

I  soon  grew  tired  of  the  jaundiced  lan-wheis,  and  diverted 
myself  with  examining  a  labyrinthine  garden  in  the  rear  of  the 
temple.  It  was  a  piece  of  rock-work,  of  the  most  absurd  and 
grotesque  character.  The  fragments  of  gray,  disintegrated 
limestone  were  plastered  and  riveted  together  in  the  form  of 
precipices  and  mountain-peaks,  one  of  which  was  at  least  twenty 
feet  high,  with  a  cork-screw  path  encirling  it  many  times  be 
fore  it  allowed  the  adventurous  traveller  to  mount  the  cap 
Btone.     In  the  crevices  of  the  rocks  were  little  basins  of  soil 


A    SOLDIER    AND    HIS    DRILL-  355 

in  which  magnolias  and  mau-tans  were  growing,  while,  far 
down  in  the  depths  of  the  valleys  you  saw  several  green,  slimy 
lakes,  from  Lhree  to  five  feet  in  length.  After  having  suffi- 
ciently enjoyed  this  sublime  view,  I  discovered  a  means  of 
exit  through  a  low,  arched  grotto  into  the  street,  and  did  not 
scruple  to  make  use  of  it. 

Continuing  my  walk  at  random,  I  came  to  a  very  old,  di- 
lapidated temple,  in  the  southern  part  of  the  city.  The  jolly 
fat  idols  had  been  removed,  and  the  place  was  occupied  as  a 
barrack  by  some  of  the  Taou-tai's  troops.  Several  indolent 
soldiers  were  hanging  about  a  tank  of  water  in  the  centre  of  the 
court-yard,  and  the  thought  of  seeing  a  Chinese  military  drill 
came  into  my  mind.  I  offered  the  least  lazy  and  most  good- 
humored  of  the  party  fifty  cash  to  perform  his  exercise,  and 
found  him  quite  willing  to  comply.  He  soon  appeared  with  a 
wooden  weapon  about  five  feet  long  and  one  foot  wide,  with  a 
handle  like  that  of  a  fiddle-bow,  running  parallel  to  its  length, 
and  fastened  at  each  end.  This  he  brandished  in  the  air,  first 
on  one  side,  then  on  the  other,  sometimes  swinging  it  like  an 
axe,  sometimes  drawing  it  downwards  with  both  hands  like  a 
comb,  and  occasionally  thrusting  one  end  of  it  behind  him,  as 
if  he  was  warding  off  an  attack  in  the  rear.  The  attitudes 
were  very  amusing,  and  each  imaginary  blow  was  accompanied 
with  a  howl  of  defiance,  and  an  expression  of  face  which  was 
meant  to  be  terrific.  The  performance  lasted  about  half  an 
hour,  and  I  considered  that  the  cash  were  well  earned. 

On  my  return  home,  I  saw  near  the  city  gate  a  man  suf 
faring  the  punishment  of  the  cangue.  This  is  a  heavy  wooden 
wheel,  which  is  fastened  around  the  criminal's  neck,  and  pro- 
ects   outwards  so  far  that  he  cannot  touch  his  head  with  hL« 


B56  LNDIA,   CHOTA,   AHD   JAPAH. 

hands.  He  therefore  nms  the  risk  of  starvation,  unless  he  has 
friends  or  relations^  who  are  able  and  willing  to  feed  him  All 
the  inconveniences  resulting  from  this  mode  of  punishment  soon 
become  tortures,  and  when  the  culprit  is  sentenced  to  undergo 
it  for  two  or  three  months,  his  plight  would  be  insupportable 
to  any  but  a  Chinaman.  The  man  in  question  had  a  wretched, 
haggard  look,  but  I  saw  no  one  who  seemed  to  commiserate 
him  in  the  least. 

On  the  23d  of  April,  the  British  war-steamer  Hermes  left 
for  Nanking,  with  Sir  George  Bonham  on  board.  As  the 
Hermes  drew  four  or  five  feet  less  water  than  the  Susquehan- 
na^ it  was  supposed  that  she  would  be  able  to  proceed  up  the 
Yang-tse-Kiang.  Sir  George's  object  was  to  communicate 
with  the  rebels,  and  inform  them  of  the  entire  neutrality  of 
the  foreign  powers.  The  Taou-tai  of  Shanghai  had  circulated 
reports  throughout  the  interior,  that  all  the  foreign  war- 
steamers  were  in  league  with  him,  and  were  to  be  dispatched 
to  Nanking.  The  Hermss  returned  on  the  5th  of  May,  having 
been  absent  twelve  days.  She  was  four  days  in  reaching 
Nanking,  having  twice  grounded  in  the  river.  She  passed  the 
outposts  of  the  rebel  army  near  Chin-Kiang-foo,  where  she  was 
fired  upon,  but  very  slightly  damaged.  Having  reached  the 
anchorage  at  Nanking,  the  officers  succeeded  in  communicating 
with  the  rebel  chiefs,  by  whom  they  were  well  received.  Tho 
latter  stated  that  they  were  not  hostile  to  foreigners,  and  ha<l 
never  intended  to  attack  Shanghai  They  professed  to  be 
Christians,  and  declared  that  their  leader,  Tae-ping,  was  a 
younger  brother  of  Jesus  Christ.  From  various  indications 
however,  it  was  supposed  that  their  Christianity,  such  as  it  was 
was  founded  on  the  belief  that,  through  its  supernatural  influ 


THE    HERMES    AT   NANK  NO.  357 

ence,  they  would  obtain  the  same  divine  favor  to  which  tliev 
asmbed  the  success  of  the  English  in  the  late  Chinese  war. 

Mr.  Meadows  sent  to  the  American  Embassy  copies  of 
books  which  were  ob+ained  from  the  rebels.  Among  them 
was  Grutzlaff's  translation  of  the  book  of  Genesis.  They  also 
had  the  Ten  Commandments,  which  they  promulgated  as  a 
divine  law,  changing  the  seventh  so  as  to  read  thus:  "Thou 
shalt  not  commit  adultery,  nor  smoke  opium."  The  latter  of- 
fence is  punished  with  death.  The  chief  Tae-ping  (Universal 
Peace,)  was  not  seen  by  Sir  George  Bonham,  nor  any  of  hia 
suite.  He  professed  to  be  divinely  inspired,  receiving  his  com- 
munications direct  from  the  Almighty.  Nanking  was  almost 
wholly  deserted  by  its  former  inhabitants,  and  its  streets  pre- 
sented a  pitiable  spectacle.  The  rebels  went  about  dressed  in 
gorgeous  silks,  which  they  had  taken  from  the  despoiled  shops 
of  the  merchants;  sycee  silver  was  abundant,  and  the  most 
extravagant  prices  were  paid  for  umbrellas,  buttons,  pistols, 
old  clothes,  and  other  articles  on  board  the  Hermes.  Many  of 
the  sailors  made  large  sums  in  thus  disposing  of  their  super- 
fluous garments.  A  splendid  robe  of  the  most  costly  furs  was 
given  in  exchange  for  a  worn-out  midshipman's  unifonn. 
Hundreds  of  the  rebels  visited  the  Hermes,  while  she  lay  l-e- 
fore  the  city,  and  some  of  her  officers  went  ashore,  and  even 
passed  a  night  among  the  people,  without  the  least  molesta- 
tion 

The  steamer  Bombay  arrived  on  the  3d  of  May,  bringing 
the  long-delayed  European  and  American  mails,  together  with 
the  intelligence  that  the  U.  S.  steam-frigate  Mississippi,  the 
flag-ship  of  the  Japan  Expedition  had  left  Hong  Kong  foj 
Shanghai.     Early  on  the  following  morning,  we  saw  from  th( 


358  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

hoQse-top,  through  a  glass,  her  broad  pennant  at  the  mouth  oi 
the  Woosung  River.  Although  drawing  more  than  twentj 
feet,  she  succeeded  in  crossing  the  bar  without  delay,  and  came 
up  to  the  city,  where  she  dropped  anchor  beside  the  Susque- 
hanna. On  the  9th  of  May,  Commodore  Perry  transferred  his 
pennant  to  the  latter  vessel,  with  the  usual  ceremonies  of  firing 
salutes  and  manning  the  yards — a  spectacle  which  drew  the 
greater  part  of  Shanghai  to  the  hund.  The  Commodore  be- 
came a  guest  at  the  American  Consulate  for  the  remainder  of 
his  stay,  and  his  presence  and  that  of  the  Mississippi's  officers, 
gave  a  fresh  impetus  to  the  social  activity  of  the  foreign  popu- 
lation. Thenceforth  there  were  balls,  dinners,  and  other  en- 
bertainments,  in  great  abundance. 

Among  these  festivities,  the  most  notable  was  a  Chinese 
dinner  which  Col.  Marshall  gave  at  the  Consulate.  The  build- 
ing was  in  a  blaze  of  lanterns  and  flowers.  An  arched  ave- 
nue of  colored  lights  led  from  the  gate  to  the  door,  where  the 
visitor  ascended  between  a  double  row  of  fragrant  white  and 
crimson  tnau-tans  to  the  first  story.  Here,  the  quaint  sills 
lanterns  were  redoubled;  curious  baskets  and  urns  of  grass 
and  shells,  filled  with  flowers,  were  suspended  from  the  ceiling, 
and  the  dining-room,  handsomely  draped  with  flags,  contained 
a  veritable  bower  or  arbor  of  greenery  enshrining  the  Ameri- 
can eagle.  The  dinner  was  prepared  with  great  care,  not  onl^/ 
the  Taou-tai's  silver  cups  and  chopsticks,  but  even  his  cook 
having  been  borrowed  for  the  occasion.  The  dishes  were 
numerous  and  palatable,  but  hardly  substantial  enough  for  a 
civilized  taste.  They  were  mostly  soups,  and  some  of  them 
were  distinguished  by  very  peculiar  flavors,  which  I  found 
difficult  to  analyze.     The  choicest  dishes  were  bird's-nest  soup 


ROBERT     FORTUNE.  359 

shark's  fins,  and  a  dark,  stringy  substance,  which  tne  Taoa-ta 
said  he  had  procured  from  Pekin,  at  great  expense.  The  din 
ner  was  followed  by  a  grand  ball,  and  a  supper  in  Europear 
style. 

There  were  rumors  of  trouble  at  Ningpo,  and  the  French 
Bt  earn  or  Cassini  made  a  trip  to  that  city.  Mr.  Robert  For- 
tune, author  of  "  Wanderings  in  China,"  and  "  A  Journey  to 
the  Bohea  Mountains,"  who  had  arrived  in  Shanghai  a  short 
time  previous,  also  left  for  Ningpo,  whence  he  proposed  making 
new  journeys  into  the  interior.  Mr.  Fortune  is  a  plain,  unas- 
suming man,  and  an  enthusiastic  botanist,  and  by  his  daring 
excursions  into  the  tea  districts,  has  added  greatly  to  our 
knowledge  of  the  interior  of  China.  Mr.  Forbes,  who  went  to 
Ningpo  in  the  Cassini.  returned  about  the  10th  of  May  in  a 
(Chinese  junk,  by  way  of  Chapoo. 


CHAPTER    XXIX 

THE      D.      8.      EXPEDITION      TO     JAPAN 

strte  (>f  Things  at  Shanghai— The  81oop-of-War  Plymouth— Preparations  for  Depart 
ore— Entering  the  Naval  Service— Its  Regulations— Procuring  a  Uniform— The 
Master'6-Mate&— Establishing  a  Mess— Departure  for  Japan— A  Gale— Shipwrecks- 
Standing  out  to  Sea— Arrival  at  the  Great  Loo-Choo  Island— A  Missionary— Beauty 
of  the  Harbor  of  Napa— The  Native  Authorities — Going  Ashore — Jumping  over  i 
Coral  Eeef— Landing— The  Town  of  Napa-Kiang— Spies— Dr.  Bettelhelm's  Eesi 
dence. 

Immediately  after  the  transfer  of  Commodore  Perry's  broad 
pennant  to  the  Susquehanna,  active  preparations  were  made 
for  the  departure  of  the  squadron  on  its  mission  to  Japan 
Since  the  return  of  the  Hermes  from  Nanking,  there  was  very 
little  apprehension  of  danger,  either  among  the  Chinese  or  the 
foreign  residents.  The  former  had  very  generally  returned  to 
their  homes  and  opened  their  shops,  in  accordance  with  thd 
Taou-tai's  commands.  The  American  commercial  houses 
nevertheless,  addressed  a  letter  to  Col.  Marshall,  asking  that 
they  should  not  be  left  entirely  defenceless — on  account  of 
which  application,  Commodore  Perry  detached  the  sloop- of- wai 
Plymouth  from  the  squadron  for  a  few  weeks  longer.  CoL 
Marshall,  who  had  as  ^'^et  not  been  able  to  find  a  proper  Chinea 


ENTERING  THE  NAVAL  SERVICE.  361 

ofi&cial  to  receive  his  letters  of  credence,  finally  made  applica- 
tion to  the  Court  at  Pekin.  He  desired  to  proceed  to  the 
mouth  of  the  Pai-ho  River,  in  the  Yellow  Sea,  and  there  await 
his  answer,  but  a  council  of  sailing-masters,  called  together  by 
the  Commodore,  reported,  after  a  long  consultation,  that  it 
would  be  impossible  to  get  within  sight  of  the  shore  in  a 
vessel  drawing  so  much  water  as  the  Plymouth.  Tuesday, 
the  17th  of  May,  was  appointed  for  the  departure  of  the  Sus- 
quehanna and  Mississippi,  the  sloop-of-war  Saratoga  having 
already  sailed  from  Macao  for  an  unknown  rendezvous. 

I  had  extended  my  travels  to  China  with  a  strong  hope  of 
being  able  to  accompany  the  Expedition  to  Japan.  On  the 
arrival  of  Commodore  Perry,  I  learned  that  very  strict  orders 
had  been  issued  by  the  Navy  Department  against  the  admis- 
sion on  board  of  any  of  the  vessels,  of  any  person  not  attacheo 
to  the  service  and  subject  to  its  regulations.  Capt.  Buchanan, 
who  had  no  clerk,  and  was  justly  entitled  to  one,  very  kindly 
proposed  that  I  should  go  in  that  capacity ;  but  as  there  were 
two  vacancies  in  the  rank  of  master's-mate,  which  the  Commo- 
dore had  power  to  fill,  and  as  my  willingness  to  enter  the 
service  temporarily,  removed  the  only  objection  he  had  urged, 
I  decided  to  take  the  latter  chance.  I  therefore  signed  an 
article  of  allegiance,  and  became  an  ofl&cer  of  very  moderate 
rank,  with  unlimited  respect  for  my  superiors,  and  the  reverse 
for  my  inferiors.  This  enlistment,  which  I  most  gladly  and 
readily  made,  rendered  me  subject  to  all  the  regulations  of  the 
Navy  Department;  especially  to  that  order  promulgated  for 
the  benefit  of  the  officers  of  the  Expedition,  which  obliged 
them  to  give  up  to  the  Department  every  journal,  note,  sketch, 
nr  observation  of  any  kind  made  during  the  cruise.  I  thertf 
16 


.iG2  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND   JAfAN. 


fore  closed  mj  eld  journal,  and  commenced  a  new  one  from  tin 
iay  I  entered — which  latter  is  now  in  possession  of  the  Navy  ( 
Department,  according  to  agreement.  Nearly  all  the  officers, 
on  the  contrary,  had  ceased  keeping  journals  from  the  day  the 
Drder  was  issued.  I  should  have  had  some  hesitation  in  sub- 
mitting myself  to  that  almost  absolute  power,  which  is  the  life 
of  the  Naval  Service,  had  I  not  already  known  so  well  the 
officers  of  the  Susquehanna.  My  confidence  was  not  misplaced, 
for,  from  the  Commodore  down,  with  but  a  single  exception,  I 
received  nothing  from  fhem 'but  kindness  and  courtesy,  during 
my  connection  with  the  service. 

I  had  some  dfficulty  in  procuring  the  necessary  uniforms 
There  were  none  but  Chinese  tailors  in  Shanghai,  who  work 
entirely  from  ready-made  patterns.  By  foraging  among  the 
officers  I  procured  a  sufficient  number  of  anchor  buttons,  and 
a  crest  for  my  cap ;  in  the  shop  of  a  French  merchant  I  found 
some  cloth  of  the  proper  color ;  I  borrowed  one  coat  for  the 
sleeves,  another  for  the  body,  and  another  for  the  arrangement 
of  buttons ;  and  by  keeping  a  watchful  eye  upon  the  tailor, 
finally  succeeded  in  obtaining  both  undress  and  full-dress  uni- 
forms, which  came  within  two  buttons  of  being  correct. 
Having  assumed  the  blue,  and  buttoned  my  coat  up  to  the 
throat  in  order  to  display  the  eighteen  gilded  eagles  and  anchors 
which  decorated  its  front,  I  walked  down  the  bund  to  try  its 
affect.  I  endeavored  to  appear  careless  and  self-possessed,  but 
the  first  man-of-war'sman  who  passed  betrayed  me.  I  know 
that  I  actually  blushed  when  he  lifted  his  tarpaulin,  and  I 
doubt  to  this  day  whether  I  returned  his  salute.  A  little 
further,  a  jolly,  red-headed  tar,  with  a  large  cargo  of  samshoo 
aboard,  came  up  and  shook  my  hand  heartily,  promising  me  an 


ESTABLISHING    A    MESS.  363 

oyatiji  supper  in  New  York,  after  our  return.  I  felt  more  ai 
home  in  the  service  after  such  a  characteristic  ■welcome,  and 
was  not  afterwards  embarrassed  by  my  buttons. 

The  places  of  acting  master's-mates  (the  rank  of  warranted 
Qiaster's-mates  being  now  obsolete)  had  been  purposely  left 
racant,  in  order  that  it  might  be  filled  by  artists  and  natu- 
ralists, who  would  thus  belong  to  the  service  and  be  under  the 
control  of  its  officers.  The  rank  and  uniform  is  that  of  a 
passed  midshipman,  but  the  pay — twenty-five  dollars  a  month- 
is  considerably  less  than  half  of  what  the  latter  receives 
On  the  East  India  station  it  just  about  suffices  for  the  pay 
ment  of  the  mess-bill.  There  were  three  master's-mates  on 
board  the  Mississippi — Mr.  Heine,  the  artist;  Mr.  Draper 
who  had  charge  of  the  telegraph  apparatus ;  and  Mr.  Brown, 
daguerreotypist.  As  they  were  specially  subject  to  the  Com- 
modore's orders,  they  were  transferred  to  the  Susquehanna,  and 
I  joined  them  in  forming  a  separate  mess,  to  which  was  added 
Mr.  Portman,  the  Commodore's  interpreter  and  clerk.  The 
vessel  was  so  crowded,  that  we  had  some  trouble  in  finding 
sufficient  room  for  our  mess-table  and  stores,  but  were  finally 
placed  upon  the  orlop  deck,  beside  the  main  hatch,  and  over 
the  powder  magazine.  My  cot  was  slung  in  the  same  place  at 
night,  where  it  was  brought  by  a  sturdy  main-topmau,  who 
had  it  in  his  particular  charge.  A  cadaverous  Chinaman, 
A-fok  by  name,  was  shipped  as  our  steward,  and  an  incorrigible 
black  deck-hand  appropriated  to  us  as  cook.  We  were  thus 
provided  with  all  the  requisites  of  a  mess,  and  although  theie 
was  some  grumbling  from  time  to  time,  on  account  of  the  heat 
and  darknesi  of  the  orlop  deck,  the  incompetency  of  the 
steward,   or   the  villainy  of  the   cook,   I  found  my  situation 


364  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN 

quite  as  comfortable  as  I  anticipated,  and  never  regretted 
having  embraced  it.  .  -i^  ' 

ki  last  the  day  of  our  departure,  the  17th  of  May,  arrived 
It  was  a  warm,  calm,  sunny  day,  and  as  the  black  volumea 
began  to  rise  from  the  smoke-stacks  of  the  two  steam-frigates, 
the  whole  foreign  population  of  Shanghai  flocked  down  to  the 
bund.  Mr.  Forbes  and  Mr.  Cunningham  came  on  board  foi 
a  pleasure  trip  to  the  Saddle  Islands,  whence  they  intended  re- 
turning in  a  large  junk  which  had  been  sent  down  with  a  final 
instalment  of  coal.  About  three  o'clock  the  cornet  was  hauled 
down,  the  anchor  hove,  and  we  slowly  threaded  our  way  through 
the  shipping,  the  band,  stationed  on  the  hurricane  deck,  play- 
ing in  answer  to  the  cheers  and  shouts  which  followed  us.  It 
was  an  exciting  moment,  for  we  were  now  leaving  the  frontiers 
of  commerce  and  national  intercourse,  and  our  next  port  would 
be  in  one  of  those  strange,  exclusive  realms  which  we  hoped 
to  open  to  the  world.  The  cannon  and  the  music  ceased ;  the 
shouts  became  faint  and  died  away  altogether ;  the  houses  of 
Shanghai  gradually  passed  out  of  sight,  and  before  sunset  we 
came  to  anchor  in  the  Yang-tse-Kiang,  off  Woosung. 

The  next  day  we  proceeded  down  the  river.  There  was  a 
gale  of  mingled  wind  and  rain,  and  we  ascertained  that  the 
store-ship  Supply^  which  had  come  from  Hong  Kong  to  join 
the  squadron,  was  aground  on  the  North  ShoaL  She  was  in 
imminent  danger  for  a  time,  but  was  finally  got  oflf  without 
damage.  In  the  evening,  the  junk  which  had  been  laden  with 
coal  ran  aground,  and  soon  became  a  complete  wreck  Her 
crew,  consisting  of  twelve  men,  were  with  difficulty  saved  by 
the  Mississippi's  boats.  The  Susquehanna  had  a  large  boat 
in  tow,  belongicg  to  Mr.  Cunningham,  and  by  soire  mismin 


PUTTING  OUT   TO   SEA.  365 

agement  of  the  native  sailors,  one  side  of  it  was  stove  in  against 
the  frigate's  quarter.  The  wreck  still  held  by  the  hawser 
dragging  after  us,  the  sea  bieaking  over  the  terrified  Chinese^ 
who  pounded  their  foreheads  against  the  piece  of  deck  that  re- 
nainedj  and  implored  to  be  taken  off.  This  was  done  as  soon 
as  possible,  and  the  drenched  Celestials  had  no  sooner  touched 
our  deck  than  they  prostrated  themselves,  and  thumped  their 
heads  vigorously  at  the  feet  of  the  officer. 

On  account  of  the  gale,  and  the  dangerous  navigation  of 
the  Archipelago  of  Chusan,  the  squadron  remained  two  days 
near  the  Saddle  Islands.  The  weather  then  became  clear,  and 
Messrs.  Forbes  and  Cunningham,  with  the  shipwrecked  China- 
men, having  found  a  means  of  return  to  Shanghai,  left  us,  and 
the  squadron  stood  out  to  sea.  Shortly  after  passing  the  islands 
a  streak  of  dazzling  emerald  appeared  on  the  horizon,  herald- 
ing our  release  from  the  treacherous  waters  of  the  Yang-tse- 
Kiang.  The  brown,  muddy  tint  gradually  passed  off  the  hem- 
isphere of  sea,  like  an  eclipse  from  the  face  of  the  sun ;  thfc 
vessels  fell  into  line,  the  Susquehanna  in  advance,  and  the 
Mississippi,  with  the  Supply  in  tow,  following  on  our  port 
quarter,  and  we  were  at  last  under  way  for  the  unknown  ren- 
dezvous. The  ship's  course  soon  revealed  to  us  what  we  had 
suspected — that  the  squadron  would  first  proceed  to  the  Great 
Loo-Choo  Island. 

With  calm  weather,  we  sailed  three  or  four  days  in  a  south- 
east direction,  and  on  the  morning  of  the  26th  saw  some  scat- 
tered, uninhabitable  islands  belonging  to  the  Loo-Choo  group. 
The  day  was  clouded,  with  frequent  thunder-showers ;  but  we 
succeeded  in  making  the  Great  Loo-Choo  early  in  the  after- 
Doon,  and  with  the  assistance  of  Capt.  Beechey's  chart,  felt  om 


366  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAP  AH. 

way  into  the  harbor  of  Napa-Kiang,  at  its  south-western 
extremity^  before  dark.  As  the  island  first  came  in  sight  we 
descried  a  vessel  off  the  weather-beam,  which  soon  proved  tc 
be  the  Saratoga  making  her  way  up,  punctual  to  her  appoinfc- 
m-jnt.  The  first  landmark  we  made  was  Abbey  Point,  at  the 
southern  end  of  the  harbor,  by  means  of  which,  and  a  curious 
bluff  called  Capstan  Rock,  we  were  enabled  to  find  the  nar- 
row entrance  leading  between  cora*  reefs  to  a  safe  ancliorage 
within.  The  rain  began  to  fall  in  torrents  soon  aiter  our  ar- 
rival, and  the  green,  misty  hills  of  the  island  were  soon  lost 
in  the  gloom  of  night. 

The  same  evening  a  native  boat  came  off,  bringing  Dr.  Bet- 
telheim,  the  sole  European  resident  on  the  island.  He  was  a 
missionary,  who  had  been  placed  there  by  a  society  of  Eng^ 
lish  naval  ofl&cers,  who,  about  seven  years  ago,  formed  the  de- 
sign of  Christianizing  those  parts,  and  selected  the  Dr.  as  their 
first  instrument.  It  was  eighteen  months  since  any  vessel  had 
touched  at  Napa,  and  the  missionary  came  on  board  in  a  state 
of  great  excitement.  He  was  received  by  the  Commodore,  and 
after  a  stay  of  an  hour,  returned  to  the  shore. 

When  the  next  morning  dawned,  bright  and  clear,  I  thought 
I  bad  never  seen  a  more  lovely  landscape  than  the  island  pre- 
sented, •  The  bay  was  clasped  by  an  amphitheatre  of  gently 
undulating  hills,  in  some  places  terraced  with  waving  rice-fields, 
in  others  covered  with  the  greenest  turf,  or  dotted  with  pictu 
resque  groups  of  trees.  Bowers  of  the  feathery  bamboo — next 
to  the  palm,  the  most  graceful  of  trees — almost  concealed  the 
dwellings  which  nestled  together  in  the  little  dells  opening  intc 
the  bay,  and  which,  with  their  stone  enclosures  and  roofs  of  red 
tiles,  hinted  of  a  much  higher  civilization  than  we  had  expected 


THE    BAY    OF    NAPA 


36'i 


The  spurs  of  the  hills  which  ran  dowD  to  the  sea  termiuated  11 
abrupt  bluffs,  in  many  places  so  shattered  and  irregular  as  to 
resemble  castles  and  abbeys  in  ruins.  Beyond  and  to  the  righn 
of  Capstan  Hock,  we  saw  the  houses  of  the  town  of  Napa,  with 
the  mouth  of  a  little  estuary,  wherein  some  Chinese  and  Japa 
nese  junks  were  anchored ;  while  on  the  top  of  the  highest  hill 
three  or  four  miles  inland,  one  of  the  bastions  of  the  Eegent'f 
castle  towered  above  the  trees.  The  exc^uisite  harmony  in  the 
forms  of  the  scene,  the  dazzling  green  of  the  foliage,  and  the 
sweet,  delicious  air  which  came  to  us  off  the  shore,  charmed  us 
like  a  glimpse  of  Paradise,  after  the  monotonous  levels  and 
polluted  atmosphere  of  China. 

There  was  no  intercourse  with  the  shore  until  after  some 
negotiations  had  taken  place  between  the  Commodore  and  the 
high  native  dignitaries.  The  latter  came  off  in  rude,  flat-bot- 
tomed boats,  propelled  with  paddles.  They  were  exceedingly 
grave  and  dignified  men,  dressed  in  loose  robes  of  grass  cloth, 
and  with  curious  yellow  caps  on  their  heads.  Both  their  per- 
sons and  their  garments  were  scrupulously  clean ;  their  long, 
silky  beards  were  carefully  combed  out,  the  particular  hairs 
lying  parallel  to  each  other,  and  every  thing  about  them  gave 
evidence  of  a  care  and  neatness  which  I  have  never  seen  sur- 
passed. They  were  greatly  astonished  at  the  size  and  strength 
of  the  steamer,  and  when  one  of  the  field-pieces  was  fired  three 
times  as  a  salute,  several  of  the  attendants  dropped  upon  the 
deck  from  the  shock  of  their  surprise. 

On  the  second  day  after  our  arrival,  when  the  Commodor 
aad  come  to  a  good  understanding  with  the  native  authorities, 
De  gave  the  officers  of  the  squadron  permission  to  go  ashore. 
t  jumped  into  the  first  boat  which  put  oif  from  the  Susque 


368  INDIA,    CllIXA,    AND    JAPAN. 

hanna,  and  which  happened  to  be  manned  by  a  dozen  Chinest, 
from  a  number  who  had  been  shipped  at  Shanghai,  as  dech 
hands.  The  wind  was  blowing  fresh,  the  sea  was  rmining 
briskly,  and  the  Chinamen,  who  had  probably  never  had  an  oai 
*n  their  hands  before,  did  little  but  catch  crabs  and  confuse 
each  other.  We  rapidly  drifted  away  from  the  vessel  and 
away  from  the  shore,  until,  finally,  one  of  the  midshipmen 
ordered  the  coolies  to  cease,  and  with  the  assistance  of  two  oi 
three  others  stepped  the  mast  and  set  the  sheet,  to  run  in  on 
the  wind.  But  he  did  not  know  the  harbor,  and  in  the  twink- 
ling of  an  eye,  the  boat,  which  was  running  at  the  rate  of  seven 
or  eight  knots,  dashed  upon  a  coral  reef.  It  was  too  late  to 
wear  off,  so  we  bounced  across  it,  the  boat  striking  upon  the 
tops  of  the  growing  coral  trees,  with  every  wave.  Having 
reached  deep  water  again,  we  found  ourselves  in  a  lake,  or  pool, 
completely  encircled  by  the  reef.  The  only  means  of  escape 
was  to  jump  back  again,  which  we  finally  accomplished  with- 
out staving  in  the  boat,  and  after  a  wearisome  pull,  reached 
the  steamer,  where  we  procured  a  fresh  crew,  and  were  finally 
put  ashore  at  the  foot  of  Capstan  Rock. 

By  this  time  several  boats  had  landed,  and  groups  of 
officers  and  men  were  strolling  towards  the  town.  Behind  a 
hedge  of  the  prickly  pandanus^  there  was  a  cluster  of  bamboo 
huts,  inhabited  mostly  by  fishermen — lank,  tawny,  half-naked 
figures,  who  looked  at  us  with  a  sort  of  listless  curiosity. 
Their  families  were  all  concealed  within  the  houses.  As  we 
advanced  towards  the  town,  I  noticed  that  two  or  three  indi' 
viduals,  in  robes  of  salmon-colored  grass-cloth,  hovered  neai 
each  party,  and,  without  seeming  to  watch  closely,  took  note  of 
every  movement  that  was  made.     We  soon  entered  the  mair 


THE    TOWN   OF   NAPA.  369 

street,  wliicli  was  broad  and  well  paved,  and  as  neat  as  it  could 
well  be.  It  was  enclosed  by  massive  walls  of  coral  and  po- 
rous limestone,  about  ten  feet  bigh,  over  wbicb  bung  a  variety 
f  flowering  shrubs  and  the  branches  of  glossy  tropical  trees, 
growing  in  the  gardens  behind  them.  The  dwellings  were 
within  these  enclosures,  and  if  we  saw,  by  chance,  a  gate  un- 
locked, and  ventured  to  enter,  we  invariably  found  the  place 
vacant  and  deserted.  The  salmon-colored  gentlemen  did  their 
duty  well.  We  succeeded  in  getting  ^a  very  accurate  idea  oi 
the  situation  of  the  town,  its  size,  the  character  of  its  architec- 
ture, and  the  outward  appliances  of  its  social  life;  but  the 
inhabitants,  except  a  few  men  and  boys  who  lingered  here  and 
there  in  the  streets,  had  totally  disappeared. 

On  my  return  to  the  vessel,  I  called  at  the  residence  of 
Dr.  Bettelheim,  which  was  a  very  neat  cottage  furnished  bin. 
by  the  authorities  of  Loo-Choo,  on  a  slope  behind  Capstan 
Rock.  His  family  consisted  of  his  wife,  a  mild,  amiable  English 
woman,  and  two  children.  The  house  was  plain,  but  comforta- 
ble, and  the  view  from  the  neighboring  rock  enchanting,  yet  I 
3ould  not  but  doubt  whether  any  thing  can  atone  for  such  a 
complete  removal  from  the  world  of  civilized  men.  Even  the 
zeal  of  the  Missionary  must  flag,  when  it  is  exercised  in  vain 
After  seven  years'  labor,  all  the  impression  which  Dr.  Bettel- 
heim appears  to  have  produced  upon  the  natives  is  expressed 
in  their  request,  touching  from  its  very  earnestness :  "  take  tbi 
man  away  from  among  na  1 " 
16* 


CHAPTER    XXX. 

VISIT  TO  THB  CAPITAL  OF  LOO  CHOO- 

rislt  of  the  Kegent— The  Island  of  Loo-Choo — An  Exploration  of  the  Interior-  Setting 
Out— Entry  into  tbe  Capital— Reception — The  Old  Mandarin  in  for  a  Jonrney- His 
Resignation — Programme  of  the  Exploring  Trip — Espionage  in  Loo-Clioo — En- 
deavors  to  Escape  it — Taking  Families  by  Surprise — The  Landscapes  of  Loo-Choo — 
The  Cung-quds—W &tchea  and  Counter-Watches — Commodore  Perry's  Vi^t  to 
Shui— Disembarkation— The  Order  of  March— Cariosity  of  the  Natives — March  to 
the  Capital — Reception  at  the  Gate — A  Deception  Prevented — The  Viceroy's  Castle 
—The  Inner  Courts — The  Commodsre's  Reception— A  Tableau— Salutations  ana 
Ceremonies — Visit  to  the  Regent's  House — A  State  Banquet  in  Loo-Choo — Edibles 
and  Beverages — Extent  of  the  Dinner— Toasts — The  Interpreter,  Ichirazichi — De- 
parture—Riding a  Loo-Choo  Pony — Return  to  the  Squadron. 

Two  days  after  our  arrival  at  Loo-Choo,  the  Regent  of  the 
Island  paid  a  formal  visit  to  Commodore  Perry,  on  board  of 
the  Susquehanna;  and  Monday,  the  6th  of  June,  was  fixed 
upon  as  the  day  when  the  Commodore  should  return  his  vibit 
at  Shui,  the  capital,  which  lies  some  three  or  four  miles  to  the 
north-east  of  Napa. 

The  kingdom,  or  vice-royalty  of  Loo-Choo,  which  is  tribu- 
tary to  the  Japanese  Prince  of  Satsuma,  though  frequently 
visited  by  exploring  vessels  within  the  past  fifty  years,  had 
been  comparatively  little  known  previous  to  our  arrival.  Hall 
Broughton,  Beechey,  and  the  French  Admiral  Cecile,  had  sur 


AN    EXPLORATION    OF    THE    INTERIOR.  371 

vejed  portions  of  the  coast,  but  the  interior  of  the  island 
remaiued  a  terra  incognita.  The  officers  of  H.  B.  M.  steamer 
Sphinx,  which  visited  Napa  in  February,  1852,  were  the  first 
who  were  received  in  the  royal  castle  of  Shui.  The  heir  to  the 
rice-royalty  is  a  boy,  who  was  about  eleven  years  old  at  the  time 
of  our  visit,  and  the  Government  was  therefore  intrusted  to  the 
hands  of  a  Regent,  until  he  should  have  attained  his  majority. 

As  soon  as  communication  with  the  shore  had  been  estab- 
lished. Commodore  Perry  appointed  four  officers  from  the 
Susquehanna  and  Mississippi,  to  make  an  exploring  tour 
through  the  island.  I  had  the  good  fortune  to  be  one  of  the 
party.  We  set  out  on  Monday  morning,  May  30th,  with  a 
week's  leave  of  absence,  and  after  having  explored  rather  more 
than  half  the  island,  returned  on  the  afternoon  of  June  4th. 
We  were  allowed  to  take  with  us  four  seamen,  and  four  Chinese 
coolies  to  carry  our  tents  and  camping  utensils.  The  party  was 
well  armed,  and  furnished  with  ammunition  and  ship's  rations 
for  the  necessary  cime.  This  exploration  was  in  many  respects 
one  of  the  most  peculiar  and  interesting  episodes  of  travel  I 
ever  enjoyed.  In  these  days  of  discovery,  a  piece  of  virgin 
earth  is  comparatively  rare.  There  are  few  spots  on  the  Earth's 
surface,  so  accessible  as  Loo-Choo,  into  which  the  European 
race  has  not  yet  penetrated.  I  regret  that  my  application  to 
our  Government  for  permission  to  copy  that  portion  of  my 
journal  describing  it,  should  have  been  denied,  and  that  hence 
I  am  unable  to  give  at  present  a  detailed  account  of  the  jour- 
oey. 

The  island  is  about  sixty  miles  in  length,  from  north  to 
south,  with  a  varying  breadth  of  from  five  to  ten  miles.  Tha 
Dorth-eastern  extremity,  beyond  Port  Melville,  which  we  were 


372  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN 

obliged  to  leave  tinexplored,  for  want  of  time,  is  wild,  moon 
tainous,  and  but  thinly  inhabited.  In  order  to  avoid  the  cun 
ning  and  deception  of  the  authorities,  no  previous  notice  of  oui 
journey  was  given  to  them.  We  landed  and  marched  directly 
into  the  interior,  without  so  much  as  saying,  "by  your  leave.' 
We  had  not  proceeded  more  than  half  a  mile,  however,  before 
we  were  overtaken  by  a  native  mandarin  of  the  fifth  rank, 
with  several  subordinate  officers,  who  had  been  sent  in  all  haste 
to  follow  us  and  watch  our  movements.  Their  faces  exhibited 
considerable  surprise  and  alarm,  as  they  beheld  eight  armed 
men,  with  the  cool  assurance  natural  to  Americans,  taking  the 
direct  road  to  Shui,  their  capital. 

We  carried  with  us,  as  a  token  of  our  nationality,  a  small 
boat's  ensign,  and  on  arriving  at  the  gate  of  the  capital,  one  of 
the  sailors  fastened  it  to  a  light  bamboo  staff,  which  he  stuck 
into  the  barrel  of  his  musket,  and  thus  we  bore  the  flag  boldly 
through  the  centre  of  the  town  and  around  the  very  walls  of 
the  Viceroy's  castle.  But  rapid  as  we  had  been  in  our  march 
from  Napa,  scouts  were  in  advance  of  us,  and  the  capital  ap- 
peared to  be  entirely  deserted.  Every  house  was  closed,  and 
scarcely  a  soul  was  to  be  seen  in  the  streets.  The  few  whom 
we  met  glided  past  us  with  anxious  faces,  and  the  cloud  on  the 
brows  of  our  attendant  spies  grew  darker  as  we  advanced. 
We  kept  on,  nevertheless,  and  after  passing  through  the  town, 
took  a  course  by  the  compass,  and  struck  across  the  hillp 
towards  the  opposite  shore  of  the  island.  From  the  summit 
of  a  ridge,  about  a  mile  and  a  half  to  the  eastward,  we  had  a 
glorious  view  of  green  valleys,  sloping  down  to  a  broad  bay 
beyond  which  extended  the  blue  horizon-line  of  the  open  Pacific 

As  it  drew  towards  evening,   the  old  mav'^arin  who  sus 


THE    MANDARIN    US    FOR    A    JOURNEY.  37.1 

pected  that  we  were  merely  making  a  day's  excursion  into  the 
country,  intimated  that  it  was  time  to  return  "We  replied  by 
signs,  that  we  were  going  much  further,  and  would  not  return  foi 
several  days.  This  was  more  than  he  had  bargained  for :  he  had 
been  appointed  to  watch  us  and  dare  not  leave  us — and  now,  will- 
ing or  not,  he  must  make  the  tour  of  the  whole  island.  His  look 
of  blank  perplexity  was  at  first  very  amusing,  but  seeing  that 
there  was  no  help  for  his  case,  he  submitted  to  it  with  true  East- 
ern passiveness,  and  laughed  heartily  with  us  at  the  prospect  be- 
fore him.  I  must  confess  that  the  thirst  for  exploration  made 
us  somewhat  unfeeling.  In  our  desire  to  see  as  much  of  the 
island  as  possible  within  the  time  allotted  to  us,  we  led  the  old 
mandarin  such  a  dance  as  he  certainly  never  performed  before. 
Although  he  made  use  of  his  authority  over  the  natives,  and 
frequently  obliged  them  to  carry  him  in  the  kago,  or  sedan- 
chair  of  Japan,  he  would  come  into  the  encampment  every 
evening,  slapping  his  legs  to  show  how  fatigued  they  were,  and 
amusing  us,  in  a  good-humored  way,  with  signs  of  the  great 
exhaustion  he  felt.  Notwithstanding  this,  he  visited  us  regu- 
larly every  morning  at  daybreak,  to  inquire  after  our  health, 
and  exhibited  so  much  patience  and  kindly  feeling  in  every 
way,  that  in  spite  of  the  annoyance  which  his  office  caused  us, 
we  all  felt  a  cordial  friendship  towards  him. 

We  encamped  for  the  night  on  the  shore  of  the  bay,  to 
which  the  name  of  Matthews'  Bay  was  given  by  Commodore 
Perry,  in  memory  of  Lieut.  John  Matthews,  of  the  Plymouth 
who  first  surveyed  it,  and  who  was  afterwards  lost  at  the 
Benin  Islands,  in  a  typhoon.  Travelling  northward  the  next 
day,  over  the  ridges  of  the  beautiful  hills,  and  by  foot-paths 
through  forests,  we  reached  at  sunset  a  village  on  the  shore  of 


374  INDIA,    CHDTA^    AND    JAPAN. 

Barrow's  Bay.  On  the  road  we  discovered  the  ruins  of  ai. 
ancient  castle,  crowning  the  summit  of  a  high  peak.  It  waa 
235  paces  in  length  by  70  in  breadth,  with  walls  from  six  to 
twelve  paces  in  thickness.  We  afterwards  ascertained  that 
it  had  been  the  palace  of  one  of  the  former  kings  of  Loo-Choo, 
when  the  island  was  divided  into  three  sovereignties.  On  the 
third  day  we  proceeded  around  the  head  of  Barrow's  Bay,  and 
across  the  northern  promontory,  to  a  village  called  "  Ching," 
or  "  Kanafa."  Thence  we  struck  northward  into  the  heart  of 
the  island,  over  a  range  of  mountains  covered  with  dense  tropi- 
cal forests,  intending  to  make  the  head  of  Port  Melville,  on 
the  opposite  side,  but  having  swerved  too  much  to  the  left, 
came  down  to  the  shore  at  a  village  called  Na-Komma.  We 
spent  the  fourth  night  at  the  village  of  Un-na,  the  features  of 
whose  lovely  valley  I  have  attempted  to  represent  in  the  fron- 
tispiece to  this  volume.  The  fifth  day  was  a  weary  march  of 
twenty-eight  miles  in  a  burning  sun,  over  mountains,  through 
tangled  thickets,  deep  rice-swamps,  and  in  the  glaring  sand  of 
the  sea-shore.  We  halted  for  the  night  at  a  place  called  Chan- 
do-kosa,  and  the  next  day,  after  travelling  about  twenty-five 
miles  in  a  heavy  rain,  reached  the  harbor  of  Napa,  having 
journeyed  more  than  a  hundred  miles  through  a  territory  pre- 
viously untrodden  by  white  men. 

The  perfection  to  which  the  system  of  espionage  is  carried 
in  Loo-Choo — and  consequently  in  Japan,  for  the  system  is 
uo  doubt  the  same  in  both  countries — is  almost  incredible.  I 
have  no  doubt  that  before  the  second  day  of  our  trip  was  over, 
the  fact  was  known  throughout  the  whole  island,  and  watcherE 
were  set  around  every  village,  to  look  out  for  our  approach. 
We  were  surrounded  with  a  secret  power,  the  tokens  of  whict 


ESPIONAGE    IN    LOO-CHOO.  375 

«rere  iiiTisible,  jet  which  we  conld  not  move  a  step  without 
feeling.  We  tried  every  means  to  elude  it,  but  in  vain.  The 
lovely  villages  with  which  the  island  is  dotted  were  deserted 
at  our  approach,  and  the  inhabitants  so  well  concealed  that  we 
arely  succeeded  in  finding  them.  Only  the  laborers  who  were 
at  work  in  the  fields  were  allowed  to  remain,  and  even  they 
were  obliged  to  keep  at  a  distance  from  our  path.  We  changed 
our  course  repeatedly,  in  the  endeavor  to  mislead  the  spies,  but 
they  seemed  to  comprehend  our  designs  by  a  species  of  instinct 
and  wherever  we  went  they  had  been  before  us.  We  scattered 
our  forces,  each  one  taking  a  separate  course,  but  the  spies 
were  still  more  numerous  than  we.  We  could  perceive,  however, 
from  the  demeanor  of  the  natives,  that  they  were  well  disposed 
towards  us,  and  felt  a  strong  curiosity  to  become  acquainted 
with  us — and  that  it  was  not  so  much  fear  of  ourselves,  as 
dread  of  the  power  of  their  rulers,  which  kept  them  aloof.  I 
had  a  great  desire  to  learn  something  of  their  social  and  domes- 
tic life,  and  made  frequent  efforts  to  accomplish  my  object,  by 
plunging  into  the  woods  from  time  to  time,  outstripping  the 
spies,  and  then  darting  suddenly  into  some  neighboring  village. 
Although  I  entered  many  houses,  in  two  or  three  instances 
only  did  I  find  the  inhabitants  within.  On  my  appearance, 
which  must  have  been  very  unexpected  and  startling,  the  womer 
fell  upon  their  knees,  uplifting  both  hands  in  an  attitude  of 
supplication,  while  the  men  prostrated  themselves  and  struck 
their  foreheads  upon  the  earth.  I  could  only  assure  them  by 
plgns  of  my  friendly  disposition,  and  found  no  difliculty  in 
allaying  their  apprehensions,  whenever  the  spies  gave  me  time 
enough.  On  one  occasion,  where  I  found  two  women  employed 
in  weaving  the  coarse  cotton  cloth   of  the  country,  after  th* 


376  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

first   surprise  was  over,  they  quietly  resumed  their  occupa 
tion. 

In  other  respects,  the  journey  was  as  agreeable  as  it  WM 
interesting.  The  island  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  in  the 
j^orld,  and  contains  a  greater  variety  of  scenery  than  I  have 
ever  seen  within  the  same  extent  of  territory.  The  valleys 
and  hill-sides  are  cultivated  with  a  care  and  assiduity,  which 
puts  even  Chinese  agriculture  to  shame ;  the  hills  are  crowned 
with  picturesque  groves  of  the  Loo-Choo  pine,  a  tree  which  the 
artist  would  prize  much  more  highly  than  the  lumberman ;  the 
villages  are  embowered  with  arching  lanes  of  bamboo,  the  tops 
of  which  interlace  and  form  avenues  of  perfect  shade ;  while, 
from  the  deep  indentations  of  both  shores,  the  road  along  the 
spinal  ridge  of  the  island  commands  the  most  delightful  pros 
pects  of  bays  and  green  headlands,  on  either  side.  In  the 
sheltered  valleys,  the  clusters  of  sago-palm  and  banana  trees 
give  the  landscape  the  character  of  the  Tropics :  on  the  hills, 
the  forests  of  pine  recall  the  scenery  of  the  Temperate  Zone 
The  northern  part  of  the  island  abounds  with  marshy  thickets 
and  hills  overgrown  with  dense  woodland,  infested  with  wild 
boars,  but  the  southern  portion  is  one  vast  garden. 

The  villages  all  charmed  us  by  the  great  taste  and  neatness 
displayed  in  their  construction.  In  the  largest  of  them  there 
were  buildings  called  cung-qu''Sj  erected  for  the  accommoda- 
tion of  the  agents  of  the  Grovernment,  on  their  official  journeys 
through  the  island.  They  were  neat  wooden  dwellings,  with 
tiled  roofs,  the  floors  covered  with  soft  matting,  and  the  walli 
fitted  with  sliding  screens,  so  that  the  whole  house  could  be 
thrown  open  or  divided  into  rooms  at  pleasure.  They  were 
surrounded  with  gardens,  enclosed  by  trim  hedges  and  wcrf 


OOMMODORE    perry's    VISIT    TO    SdJL  37? 

always  placed  in  situations  where  they  commanded  the  view  of 
a  pluasaut  landscape.  These  buildings  were  appropriated  tc 
our  use,  and  when,  after  a  hard  day's  tramp,  we  had  hoisted 
our  flag  on  the  roof  and  stretched  ourselves  out  to  re&t  on  the 
oft  matting,  we  would  not  have  exchanged  places  with  the 
old  Viceroy  himself.  As  a  matter  of  precaution,  we  kept 
regular  watches  through  the  night,  but  the  natives  also  kept  a 
eouuter-watch  upon  us.  The  cung-qua  was  often  surrounded 
with  a  ring  of  watch-fires,  and  as  the  inhabitants  seized  this 
opportunity  of  gratifying  their  curiosity,  we  frequently  saw 
hundreds  of  dusky  heads  peering  at  us  through  the  gloom 
until  the  appearance  of  one  of  the  Government  spies  scattered 
them  as  efiTectually  as  if  a  bomb-shell  had  exploded  among  them. 
On  our  retura  to  the  squadron,  I  was  gratified  to  find  my- 
self among  the  number  chosen  to  accompany  the  Commodore 
on  his  visit  to  the  Regent,  at  Shui,  on  the  Monday  morning 
following.  The  hour  of  departure  was  fixed  at  nine  o'clock, 
and  the  boats  pushed  ofi"  from  the  difi'erent  vessels  at  the  same 
time.  The  Susquehanna's  launches  and  cutters,  conveying 
the  field-piece,  seamen,  bandsmen  and  marines,  presented  a 
very  lively  and  animating  show,  as  they  rocked  over  the  swell 
ing  waves.  The  morning  was  cloudy,  with  a  brisk  wind ;  but 
though  a  passing  shower  threw  its  veil  over  the  hills  while  on 
our  way  to  the  landing-place,  the  sky  soon  came  out  bright 
and  blue,  and  the  day  was  as  fresh  and  pleasant  as  could  have 
been  wished.     * 

The  point  of  disembarcation  was  the  little  village  of  Tu 
mai^  lying  north  of  the  sandy  flats  (covered  at  high  tides) 
which  separate  the  promontory  of  Napa  from  the  hills  of  the 
island.     From  this  place  it  is  not  more  than  two  miles  to  Shui 


378  DTDIA,    CraiTA      AND    JAPAN. 

On  entering  the  creek  which  runs  up  to  Tumai  we  found  most 
of  the  boats  already  arrived,  and  the  marines  drawn  up  in 
line  along  the  road  under  a  grove  of  trees.  Groups  of  officers, 
m  undress  uniform,  were  gathered  in  the  shade;  the  boats' 
crews,  in  high  spirits,  were  watching  the  preparations,  and  some 
hundreds  of  natives,  among  whom  were  many  of  the  more 
respectable  class,  looked  on  with  evident  interest.  The  Com- 
modore's barge  having  arrived,  he,  with  Commander  Adams, 
Captain  of  the  fleet,  Lieut.  Contee,  Flag  Lieutenant,  and  Com- 
manders Buchanan,  Lee  and  Walker,  passed  in  review  the  files 
of  marines  and  artillerymen. 

The  procession  then  formed  in  regular  order.  First  went 
the  two  field-pieces,  each  with  the  American  ensign  displayed, 
under  the  command  of  Lieut.  Bent,  of  the  Mississippi;  the 
interpreters,  Mr.  Wells  Williams  and  Dr.  Bettelheim,  walked 
in  advance,  followed  by  Mr.  Bennet,  Master  of  the  Susquehan- 
na, who  commanded  the  first  field-piece.  After  the  artillery 
followed  the  Susquehanna's  band,  and  a  company  of  marines, 
under  Major  Zeilin.  The  Commodore  came  next,  in  a  sedan- 
chair,  which  our  carpenter  had  made  for  the  occasion.  It  was 
carried  by  four  Chinese  coolies,  with  a  relay  of  four  more. 
A  marine  walked  on  each  side  as  body-guard,  with  two  of  the 
Commodore's  personal  attendants.  Behind  the  chair  were  the 
Captain  of  the  Fleet,  the  Flag  Lieutenant,  and  the  Commo- 
dore's Secretary.  Six  coolies  followed,  bearing  the  presents 
intended  for  the  Prince  and  Queen  Dowager,  guarded  by  a  file 
of  marines.  Among  them  I  noticed  arms  of  different  kinds, 
and  specimens  of  American  manufactured  goods.  The  officers 
accompanying  the  Commodore  followed  in  a  body,  headed  by 
Commanders  Buchanan,  Lee  and  Walker.     Their  servants,  the 


THE    MAR.  B    TO    SHUT.  37S 

Mississippi's  band,  and  a  second  company  of  marines,  under 
Capt.  Slack,  of  the  Mississippi,  closed  the  procession.  The 
entire  number  of  persons  composing  it,  was  about  215,  of  whom 
32  were  officers,  122  seamen  and  marines,  and  30  musicians. 

It  was  one  of  the  most  picturesque  processions  of  its  siz€ 
that  T  have  ever  seen.  The  beauty  of  the  day,  the  brilliant 
green  of  the  wooded  hills  through  which  our  road  lay,  and  the 
cheerful  strams  of  the  bands,  gave  the  occasion  a  most  inspir- 
ing character.  Numbers  of  the  natives  gathered  on  both  sides 
of  the  road  to  see  us  pass,  and  a  large  crowd  followed  in  our 
rear.  There  did  not  appear  to  be  the  least  alarm  on  their  part, 
but  a  pleased  excitement,  for  the  procession,  notwithstanding 
its  martial  character,  had  a  festive  and  friendly  air.  In  the 
narrow  lanes  branching  into  the  road,  the  foremost  ranks  of  the 
crowd  knelt,  the  next  stooped,  and  those  in  the  rear  stood  up- 
right, in  order  to  allow  as  many  as  possible  to  see  the  display 
Very  soon,  however,  we  emerged  from  the  village,  passed  a 
large  temple  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  behind  it,  and  came  out 
upon  the  open,  undulating  country  south  of  Shui.  The  rice- 
fields  rolled  in  heavy  waves  before  the  wind,  and  the  dark  green 
foliage  of  the  groves  in  which  Shui  is  embowered,  glittered  in 
the  sun.  The  natives  were  grouped  here  and  there,  in  the 
shade  of  clumps  ot  the  Loo-Choo  pine,  and  numbers  of  them 
were  seen  running  along  the  ridges  between  the  rice-fields  in 
order  to  get  ahead  of  us  and  obtain  another  view. 

The  march  occupied  nearly  an  hour,  the  bands  playing 
alternately  during  the  whole  time.  The  road  was  familiar  tc 
me,  as  we  had  passed  through  Shui  on  our  tour  of  exploration, 
but  the  other  officers  were  charmed  with  the  scenery,  especially 
fts  we  climbed   the  hill  on  which  the  capital  is  built,  and  saw 


J80  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN 

the  rich  cultivated  landscape  spreading  away  south^va^d  anii 
westward.  The  Loo-Choo  official,  appointed  to  meet  us  at  the 
landing-place,  and  accompany  us  to  Shui,  proved  to  be  Chang' 
yaen,  the  same  old  Pe-ching,  or  mandarin  of  the  fifth  class, 
who  had  been  our  guide  and  companion  during  the  expedition 
At  the  gate  of  Shui,  we  were  met  by  a  crowd  of  native  digni- 
taries, with  their  attendants,  all  in  brilliantly  clean  robes  of 
grass-cloth,  and  red  and  yellow  hatchee-matchees,  as  the  pecu- 
liar cap  worn  in  Loo-Choo  is  called,  upon  their  heads.  The 
old  E-egent,  and  his  three  venerable  coadjutors,  the  Treasurers 
of  the  Kingdom,  here  made  their  appearance,  and  after  salut 
ing  the  Commodore,  turned  about  and  accompanied  the  pro 
cession,  which  passed  in  through  the  central  arch,  without  halt, 
and  marched  up  the  great  street  of  the  city.  There  was  a 
large  train  of  native  servants,  in  attendance  upon  the  Regent 
and  Chiefs,  bearing  umbrellas,  "  chow-chow"  or  refreshment 
boxes,  cases  for  caps,  and  other  articles.  The  inscription  over 
the  gate  is  "  The  Central  Hill,"  signifying,  according  to  Mr. 
Williams,  "  the  place  of  authority."  The  lower  orders  of  the 
natives  are  not  permitted  to  pass  through  the  central  arch. 

The  main  street  is  lined  with  high  walls,  with  but  few 
alleys  branching  out  of  it.  It  was  kept  clear  of  spectators  by 
the  native  officers  who  preceded  us,  except  in  a  street  on  the 
left,  leading  to  the  house  of  the  Regent,  which  was  filled  with 
a  concourse  of  persons.  On  reaching  this  point,  the  Regent, 
who  was  in  advance,  requested,  through  his  interpreter,  that 
the  procession  should  proceed  at  once  to  his  house.  As  this 
was  evidently  a  scheme  to  prevent  our  entering  the  castle,  a 
determination  on  the  Commodore's  part  which  seemed  to  give 
them  much  anxiety,  Mr.   Williams  paid  no  attention   to  the 


THE  viceroy's  castle.  381 

request;  ]mt  marched  on  toward  the  castle  gate.  The  reeep 
tion  of  the  officers  of  the  Sphinx  within  its  walls,  left  the  Com- 
modore no  alternative  but  to  exact  equal  respect. 

The  Regent  did  not  seem  to  have  anticipated  that  we 
should  carry  the  point,  for  the  gate  of  the  castle  was  closed. 
A.  messenger  was  sent  forward  at  full  speed  to  open  it,  and 
make  preparations  for  the  Commodore's  reception.  On  reaching 
the  entrance,  the  artillery  and  marines  were  drawn  up  in  line, 
and  the  Commodore,  followed  by  his  staff  and  suite  of  officers, 
walked  past  into  the  castle,  while  the  troops  presented  arm  a 
and  lowered  the  ensigns,  and  the  band  struck  up  "Hail 
Columbia." 

Entering  the  first  gateway,  we  found  a  second  wall  and 
portal  above  us,  still  further  strengthened  by  a  natural  cliff, 
upon  which  part  of  it  was  built.  Along  the  foot  of  this  wall 
and  the  parapet  of  the  one  below,  grew  clusters  of  the  beauti- 
ful sago  palm,  many  of  which  wero  in  flower.  A  small  stream 
of  water,  trickling  from  an  aperture  above,  fell  into  a  subter- 
ranean drain.  On  either  side  of  it  were  planted  two  tall  stone 
tablets,  with  sculptured  inscriptions  upon  them.  Two  rudely 
sculptured  lions,  nearly  the  size  of  lif«,  were  placed  at  the  second 
entrance,  which  ushered  us  into  an  outer  court  of  the  palace, 
on  the  summit  of  the  height.  It  was  irregular  in  shape,  and 
Burrounded  by  houses  which  appeared  to  be  designed  for  ser- 
rants  and  others  attached  to  the  royal  household.  On  the 
eastern  side  was  another  gateway,  resembling  the  Chinese  por- 
tals of  honor.  It  consisted  of  two  arches,  and  the  Commodore 
and  his  suite  were  conducted  through  the  right-hand  one. 
rhii  brought  us  into  what  appeared  to  be  the  central  court  of 
the  palace.     It  was  not  more  than  eighty  feet  square,  surround^ 


B82  l^^DIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

ed  with  one-storj  wooden  edifices,  remarkable  neither  for  style 
aor  decoration.  The  court  was  paved  with  gravel  and  large 
tiles,  arranged  in  alternate  lozenges.  The  hall  of  reception 
was  on  the  northern  side,  the  other  buildings,  or  portions  of  the 
mam  edifice,  being  closed  by  screens  against  all  view  from  with- 
out. Into  this  hall,  which,  like  all  Loo-Choo  houses,  had  an 
outer  verandah,  the  Commodore  was  conducted,  and  placed  at 
its  head  on  the  right  hand,  followed  by  the  other  officers,  accord- 
ing to  their  rank.  Chairs  of  dark  wood,  varnished,  and  made 
exactly  upon  the  principle  of  our  camp-stools,  were  brought,  and 
all  the  guests  were  soon  ranged  in  a  single  row  along  the  right 
hand,  and  a  double  one  across  the  bottom  of  the  room,  while 
the  Regent  and  Treasurers  sat  upon  the  left  side,  with  a  double 
rank  of  attendants  behind  them.  The  Interpreters  occupied  a 
position  at  the  head  of  the  room,  between  the  Commodore  and 
Regent.  On  the  wall  above  them  was  a  large  red  tablet,  with 
an  inscription  in  gilded  characters,  which  Mr.  Williams  trans- 
lated as  signifying :  "  The  Elevated  Enclosure  of  Fragrant 
Festivities." 

Neither  the  Queen  Dowager  nor  the  young  Prince  made 
their  appearance.  Among  the  reasons  urged  by  the  Regent 
why  the  Commodore  should  defer  his  visit  to  Shui,  was  the 
alleged  illness  of  the  Queen,  caused  by  the  visit  of  the  officers 
of  the  Sphinx.  The  royal  lady's  nerves,  it  was  said  had  been 
80  agitated  by  that  event,  that  she  had  been  under  medical 
treatment  ever  since,  and  another  occurrence  of  the  kind  might 
prove  dangerous  to  her.  The  Commodore  politely  offered  to  send 
one  of  his  surgeons  to  prescribe  for  her,  but  this  was  declined. 
It  was  probably  not  considered  politic  to  produce  the  Prinoe. 
on  account  of  his  youth.     After  the  first  salutations  bad  beer 


CHINESE    VISITING    CARDS.  383 

made,  tables  were  brought,  and  cups  of  very  weak  tea  present 
ed  to  the  guests.  Smoking  boxes  were  distributed  around  the 
room,  and  dishes  of  leathery  twists  of  gingerbread  placed  upon 
the  tables.  But  it  was  evident  that  our  coming  had  not  been 
expected,  and  no  preparationts  made  to  receive  us.  The  sides 
of  the  room  were  separated  from  the  other  parts  of  the  build- 
ing by  paper  screens,  and  I  fancied  that  there  were  listeners 
and  observers  (possibly  the  old  Queen  herself)  behind  them. 
The  whole  scene,  in  fact,  could  hardly  have  been  less  interest- 
ing to  the  native  spectators  than  to  ourselves.  The  strong 
contrast  between  the  American  uniforms  of  blue  and  gold,  and 
the  simple  gray  and  fawn-colored  robes  of  the  four  dignitaries 
who  confronted  them,  as  well  as  between  the  keen  eyes  and  ac- 
tive, energetic  faces  of  the  one  race,  and  the  venerable  gray 
beards  and  impassive  features  of  the  other,  gave  it  somewhat 
of  a  dramatic  air,  which  rather  added  to,  than  diminished  the 
impression  it  made.  Those  four  personages  had  all  the  gravity 
and  dignity  which  might  have  belonged  to  Roman  Senators,  or 
rather,  to  members  of  the  Venetian  Council  of  Ten. 

After  the  usual  salutations  on  both  sides,  the  Commodore 
invited  the  Regent  and  his  three  associates  to  visit  him  on 
board  the  Susquehanna.  He  stated  that  he  intended  leaving 
Napa  in  a  day  or  two,  but  that  he  should  return  again  after 
ten  days,  and  would  receive  them  at  any  time  they  appointed, 
either  before  or  after  his  absence.  To  this  they  replied  that 
they  would  leave  the  time  of  the  visit  to  be  fixed  by  the  Com- 
oiodore  himself,  whereupon  he  stated  that  he  preferred  it 
should  be  postponed  until  after  his  return.  They  acceded  tc 
this  with  apparent  gratification.  Several  large  red  cards,  simi- 
lar to  those  used  on   state  occasions  in  China,  were  then  pro- 


384  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

luccJ.  The  Regent  taking  tliem  in  his  hand,  all  four  rose 
eame  forward  a  few  steps,  and  bowed  profoundly.  The  Com 
Qiodore  and  all  the  others  rose  and  returned  the  salutation 
The  Commodore  then  stated,  that  if  there  were  any  articles 
OJi  board  any  of  the  vessels  which  the  Regent  might  need,  oi 
desire  to  possess,  he  would  gladly  supply  him  with  them.  Thcj' 
again  rose,  advanced,  and  bowed  as  before.  The  dignitaries 
did  not  seem  quite  at  ease,  probably  on  account  of  our  having 
stolen  a  march  upon  them,  in  entering  the  castle. 

The  interview  had  lasted  nearly  an  hour,  when  the  Regent 
rose  and  proposed  that  the  Commodore  should  pay  him  a  visit 
at  his  official  residence.  The  procession  was  thereupon  formed 
in  the  same  order,  and  returned  to  the  street,  where  we  had 
been  invited  to  enter,  on  our  arrival.  The  Regent's  house  was 
in  this  street  J  a  short  distance  from  the  main  avenue.  The 
seamen,  marines  and  musicians  remained  behind,  in  charge  of 
a  few  officers.  The  Commodore  and  his  suite  were  conducted 
into  the  house,  which  was  rather  larger  than  usual,  but  not 
<Iistinguiphed  by  any  appearance  of  wealth,  or  insignia  of  office. 
It  consisted  of  a  central  hall  with  wings,  open  toward  the 
court-yard,  from  which  it  was  only  separated  by  a  narrow 
verandah,  approached  by  a  flight  of  stone  steps.  The  building 
was  of  wood,  and  the  pillars  supporting  it,  with  the  beams  of 
the  ceilings,  were  painted  of  a  dark-red  color.  The  floor  was 
covered  with  thick,  fine  matting,  each  mat  being  rigorously 
made  according  to  the  legal  dimensions. 

Four  tables  were  set  in  the  central  apartment,  and  three  Id 
each  of  the  wings,  and  already  covered  with  a  profuse  colla- 
tion. Immediately  on  entering  we  were  requested  to  seat  our* 
selvos.     The  Commodore,  with   Commanders  Buchanan    and 


A    BOYAL    DIXNER.  885 

Adams,  took  the  highest  table  on  the  right  hand,  and  the  Regent 
and  his  associates  the  one  opposite  on  the  left.  At  each  corner 
of  the  tables  lay  a  pair  of  chop-sticks.  In  the  centre  stood  an 
earthen  pot  filled  with  sackee,  surrounded  with  four  acorn 
•jups*,  four  large  cups  of  coarse  china,  with  clumsy  spoons  of 
the  same  material,  and  four  tea-cups.  From  this  centre  radiated 
a  collection  of  dishes  of  very  different  shapes  and  sizes,  and  still 
more  different  contents.  There  were  nineteen  on  the  table  at 
which  I  sat,  but  I  can  only  enumerate  a  few  of  them :  Eggs, 
dyed  crimson  and  sliced ;  fish  made  into  rolls  and  boiled  in  fat ; 
cold  pieces  of  baked  fish ;  slices  of  hog's  liver ;  sugar  candy ; 
cucumbers ;  mustard  ;  salted  radish  tops ;  curds  made  of  bean 
flour ;  fragments  of  fried  lean  pork,  and  several  nondescripts, 
the  composition  of  which  it  was  impossible  to  tell. 

The  repast  began  with  cups  of  tea,  which  were  handed 
around,  followed  by  tiny  cups  of  sackee,  which  was  of  much 
superior  quality  to  any  we  had  yet  tasted  on  the  island.  It  was 
old  and  mellow,  with  a  sharp,  sweet,  unctuous  flavor,  somewhat 
like  French  liqueur.  Small  bamboo  sticks,  sharpened  at  one 
end,  were  then  presented  to  us.  We  at  first  imagined  them  to 
be  tooth-picks,  but  soon  found  that  they  were  designed  to  stick 
in  the  balls  of  meat  and  dough,  which  floated  in  the  cups  of 
soup,  constituting  the  first  course.  Six  or  eight  cups  of  different 
kinds  of  soup  followed,  and  the  attendants,  meanwhile,  assidu- 
ously filled  up  the  little  cups  of  sackee.  We  had  a  handsome, 
bright-eyed  youth  as  our  G-anymede,  and  the  smile  with  which 
he  pressed  us  to  eat  and  drink,  was  irresistible.  The  abundance 
of  soup  reminded  me  of  a  Chinese  repast.  Of  the  twelve  courses 
— the  number  appropriated  to  a  royal  dinner — which  wero 
served  to  us,  eight  were  soups,  and  many  of  them  so  similar  iu 
17 


S86  INDIA,    CHINA,    AHD   JAPAN. 

composition  as  not  to  be  distinguished  by  a  palate  unpractised 
in  Loo-Choo  dolicaoies.  The  other  four  were — ^gingerbread; 
a  salad  made  of  bean-sprouts  and  tender  onion-tops ;  a  basket 
of  what  appeared  to  be  a  dark-red  fruit,  about  the  size  of  a 
peach,  but  proved  to  be  balls,  composed  of  a  thin  rind  of 
unbaked  dough,  covering  a  sugary  pulp ;  and  a  delicious  mix- 
lure  of  beaten  eggs,  and  the  aromatic,  fibrous  roots  of  the  gin- 
ger-plant. The  gingerbread  had  a  true  home  flavor,  and  waa 
not  to  be  despised.  The  officers  did  their  best  to  do  honor  to 
the  repast,  but  owing  to  the  number  of  dishes  could  do  little 
more  than  taste  the  courses  as  they  were  served  up.  Although 
we  left  at  the  end  of  the  twelfth  course,  we  were  told  that 
twelve  more  were  in  readiness  to  follow. 

After  the  eighth  or  ninth  course,  the  Commodore  rose  and 
proposed  as  a  toast,  the  health  of  the  Queen  Mother  and  the 
young  Viceroy,  adding  :  "  Prosperity  to  the  Loo-Chooans,  and 
may  they  and  the  Americans  always  be  friends !  "  This  toast, 
having  been  translated  to  the  Regent,  appeared  to  gratify  hiio 
highly,  and  it  was  drunk  standing,  with  Loo-Choo  honors, 
which  consists  in  draining  the  tea-spoonful  of  sackee  at  one 
gulp,  and  turning  the  cup  bottom  upwards.  The  Commodore 
afterwards  proposed  the  health  of  the  Regent  and  his  associates, 
which  the  latter  returned  by  giving  that  of  the  Commodore  and 
the  officers  of  the  Sej[uadron.  By  this  time  the  anxiety  and 
embarrassment  of  the  Chiefs  had  entirely  worn  oS,  and  the 
entertainment  wound  up  with  the  best  possible  feeling.  How 
much  of  the  anxiety  was  assumed,  or  what  was  its  cause,  we 
had  no  means  of  ascertaining;  but  from  what  little  I  have  seen 
of  the  Loo-Chooany,  I  am  h^atisfied  that  there  is  a  strong  basis  of 
eunning  in  their  cliaracter.     The  interpreter  on  the  part  of  th« 


HETURN   ON   BOARD.  387 

Regent  was  a  verj  intelligent  young  native,  name  Ichirazichi^ 
who  had  been  educated  at  Pekin,  where  he  remained  three 
years.  He  spoke  a  little  English,  and  had  some  knowledge, 
both  of  the  geographical  position  of  the  United  States,  and 
their  history.  He  spoke  of  Washington  as  a  very  great  Man- 
darin. He  had  a  more  swarthy  complexion  than  is  usually 
found  among  the  educated  Loo-Chooans,  a  keen  black  eye,  and 
A  sniewd,  cunning  expression  of  countenance. 

The  Commodore  left  the  Regent's  house  about  one  o'clock, 
when  the  procession  formed  in  the  same  order  as  before.  The 
subordinate  officials  accompanied  us  to  the  gate,  and  the  old 
Pe-ching  again  took  his  station  in  advance.  On  starting  down 
the  hill,  the  four  ponies,  which  had  gone  up  with  us  with- 
out finding  riders,  were  again  led  to  the  rear.  Several  of  us 
profited  by  this  neglect,  to  mount  for  a  ride  down,  and  try  the 
temper  of  the  Loo-Choo  horses.  The  ponies  were  very  small 
animals,  of  a  bay  color,  but  rather  active  and  spirited.  They 
were  accoutred  like  the  Chinese  horses,  with  saddles  of  Turkish 
fashion,  and  enormous  iron  stirrups,  curved  backwards,  so  as 
to  admit  not  only  the  foot  but  part  of  the  leg.  They  were 
led  by  grooms,  and  we  could  not  succeed  in  bringing  them 
into  line  behind  the  rear  company  of  marines,  on  account  of 
their  jealousy  of  each  other.  The  little  chargers  kicked  and 
plunged  several  times  with  great  vivacity. 

The  sun,  shining  full  in  the  face  of  the  hill,  made  our  de- 
scent a  sultry  one,  but  as  we  came  upon  the  wooded  slopes  a 
sea-breeze  met  us,  and  groups  of  the  boats'  crews  who  had 
come  ofi"  to  convey  us  back  to  the  vessels,  were  seen  under  the 
trees,  watching  our  approach  Several  hundreds  of  the  na- 
tives followed  us,  and  as  we  drew  near  the  shore,  they  were 


388  INDIA,    CHINA     AND    JAPAN. 

seen  scampering  over  the  rice-fields  in  every  direction,  to  gel 
a  final  view  of  our  array.  Fifteen  boats,  each  flying  the 
American  colors,  lay  in  the  mouth  of  the  creek.  The  Com- 
modore and  suite  immediately  embarked,  and  the  wind  being 
fair,  the  cutters  hoisted  sail,  and  dashed  away  over  the  bright 
blue  waves,  passing  the  slow  white  launches,  with  their  loada 
of  marines  and  artillerymen.  All  were  on  board  by  half-past 
two.  without  any  untoward  incident  having  occurred  to  mai 
the  successful  issue  of  the  trip. 


C  H  AFTER    XXXI. 

VOYAGE     TO     THE     BONIN     ISLANDS. 

Departure— The  Bonin,  or  Arzobispo  Islea— Death  of  a  Chinese  Opium  Smoker- ^A 
Peruvian  Bark— Approach  to  the  Bonin  Islands— Pilots— Entering  Por.  Lloyd— Go- 
ing Ashore- A  Settler's  Hut — Society  on  the  Island— Mode  of  Life— An  Old  Inhab- 
itant and  liis  Mate— Productions  of  the  Island— A  Coaling  Station  for  Steamers— 
Buckland  Island— A  Basaltic  Cavern— English  Claims  to  the  Islands 

On  the  9th  of  June,  Commodore  Perry  left  the  harbor  of  Napa 
in  the  Susquehanna,  for  a  visit  to  the  Bonin  or  Arzobispo 
Isles,  which  lie  in  Lat.  27^  N.,  Long.  140^  SO^E.jOr  between 
eight  and  nine  hundred  miles  from  Loo-Choo.  We  took  the 
sloop-of-war  Saratoga  in  tow,  leaving  the  Mississippi  behind, 
as  we  did  not  expect  to  be  absent  more  than  two  weeks. 

The  Bonin  Islands  have  scarcely  been  heard  of  in  the  Uni 
ted  States,  except  through  an  occasional  whaling  vessel,  som^ 
of  which  are  in  the  habit  of  touching  there,  in  order  to  pro- 
cure fresh  provisions.  They  are  about  500  miles  in  a  south- 
erly direction  from  the  Bay  of  Yedo,  and  are  called  by  the 
Japanese  Mo  or  Mou  nin  sima,  signifying  "  uninhabited 
islands,"  whence  the  English  term,  Bonin.  In  Kompfer's  work 
on  Japan,  there  is  an  account  of  their  discovery  by  the  Japan- 
286,  two  and  a  half  centuries  ago,  and  the  same,  with  a  more 


390  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN 

minute  description  of  their  appearance  and  productions,  is  to 
be  found  iu  Klaproth's  translation  of  a  Japanese  work  on  the 
three  tributary  Kingdoms  of  Corea,  Loo-Choo,  and  JesOo 
They  were  also  discovered  by  a  Spanish  Admiral,  and  named 
the  "  Islas  del  Arzobispo,"  long  prior  to  Capt.  Beechey's  visit 
and  survey  in  1827.  To  the  latter  navigator,  however,  we 
are  indebted  for  the  first  accurate  account  of  their  location 
and  extent. 

We  were  favored  by  the  south-west  monsoon,  and  had  a 
delightful  run  of  five  days,  with  nothing  to  interrupt  the  uni- 
formity of  sea  life,  except  frequent  calls  to  "  general  quar- 
ters," and  the  death  of  Mr.  Williams'  Chinese  Secretary 
The  latter  fell  a  victim  to  the  practice  of  smoking  opium.  He 
attempted  to  give  it  up,  and  this,  with  a  spell  of  sea-sickness 
on  board  the  Saratoga,  so  enfeebled  him  that  no  medicines 
produced  any  effect,  and  he  sank  into  a  state  of  nervelessness 
and  emaciation  shocking  to  witness.  His  body  was  reduced 
to  a  skeleton,  and  all  his  nervous  energy  so  completely  de- 
stroyed, that  for  a  week  before  his  death  every  fibre  in  his 
frame  was  in  a  state  of  constant  agitation.  His  face  was  a 
ghastly  yellow,  the  cheeks  sunken  upon  the  bones,  and  the 
eyes  wild  and  glassy  with  a  semi-madness  which  fell  upon  hun. 
His  whole  aspect  reminded  me  of  one  of  those  frightful  heads 
in  wax,  in  the  museum  of  Florence,  representing  the  effects  of 
the  plague.  He  was  a  complete  wreck,  both  in  mind  and 
body,  and  nothing  that  I  ever  saw  of  the  results  of  intoxica- 
tion from  spirituous  liquors  has  impressed  me  with  half  the 
horror. 

On  the  moming  of  the  12th  we  passed  a  Peruvian  bark, 
with  a  cargo  of  coolies  bound  for  the  guano  islands.     She  wae 


ENTERING    PORT     LLOYD.  391 

Bteeiing  nearly  the  same  course  as  ourselves,  under  a  cloud  of 
canvas,  with  studding-sails  and  royals  set>  but  we  did  nol 
pass  within  hail.  The  sight  of  a  leviathan  steamer — the  first 
that  ever  ploughed  those  seas — towing  a  large  vessel  after  her, 
must  have  greatly  astonished  the  Peruvians. 

At  sunrise  on  the  14th,  we  saw  the  Bonin  Islands  before 
us,  with  the  Bailly  Islands  about  fifteen  miles  distant,  in  a 
south-easterly  direction,  and  Parry's  Group  barely  visible  in 
the  north-east.  The  three  islands  of  the  Bonin  Group,  Peel, 
Buckland,  and  Stapleton,  lie  close  together,  within  an  extent, 
collectively,  of  ten  miles  from  north  to  south.  We  made 
for  the  harbor  of  Port  Lloyd,  on  the  western  side  of  Peel 
Island,  where  the  only  inhabitants — a  small  community  of 
Kanakas,  with  some  runaway  English  and  American  sailors — 
have  taken  up  their  abode.  On  approaching  the  entrance  to 
the  harbor  a  gun  was  fired  for  a  pilot,  which,  it  appeared,  was 
the  first  intimation  the  residents  had  of  our  arrival.  In  a 
short  time  two  canoes  appeared,  and  we  were  boarded  by  two 
natives,  who  attracted  considerable  attention,  as  being  the  vag- 
abond inhabitants  of  that  remote  corner  of  the  world.  One  of 
them  appeared  to  be  a  cross  between  Portuguese  and  Kanaka. 
He  wore  a  tattered  straw  hat,  blue  cotton  jacket  and  panta- 
loons, and  was  bare-footed.  The  other  was  a  youth  about 
twenty  years  old,  lithe  and  graceful  in  his  form,  and  with  a 
quick,  bright  eye  and  rather  intelligent  face.  He  was  the 
only  native  of  the  island,  and  the  son  of  a  Portuguese  named 
John  Bravo. 

Their  sailing  directions  were  of  little  use,  but  the  entrance 
to  the  port  was  broad  and  deep,  and  we  moved  on  slowly  and 
securely  to  an  anchorage  in  twenty-one  fathoms,  abreast  a 


392  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

dense  grove  of  trees,  bordering  a  beach  on  the  northern  shoie 
Nearly  east  of  us  rose  the  high  twin  peaks,  named  "  The  Paps  ^ 
by  Capt.  Beeehey ;  a  little  further  to  the  south,  beyond  a  rockj 
islet  named  "  Castle  Rock,"  was  a  narrow  beach,  at  the  foot 
of  a  ravine,  down  which  flowed  a  stream,  the  usual  watering- 
place  of  the  whalers.  With  the  exception  of  three  or  four 
similar  beaches,  the  shores  were  bold  and  precipitous,  and  the 
mountain?  bebiud,  rising  in  steep,  picturesque  outlines,  were 
covered  to  their  very  summits  with  the  richest  tropical  vegeta- 
tion. 

Towards  evening  I  went  ashore  in  the  gig.  Near  the 
northern  beach  there  is  a  bank  of  coral,  dropping  suddenly 
mto  a  track  of  deep  water,  which  forms  what  is  called  "  Ten 
Fathom  Hole."  This  extends  so  far  up  the  bay,  that  vessels 
of  the  largest  size  may  lie  within  a  hundred  feet  of  the  shore, 
hi  a  position  completely  landlocked,  and  sheltered  from  every 
wind.  The  trees  which  lined  the  beach  were  entirely  new  to 
me.  They  had  heavy,  crooked  trunks  and  boughs,  and  large 
ovate  leaves  of  a  bright-green  color.  The  settlers  called  them 
tamanas.  Two  immense  turtles,  which  had  been  caught  the 
night  before,  lay  sprawling  upon  their  backs  in  the  shade,  and 
a  white  man,  who  described  himself  as  an  Englishman  named 
Webb,  with  two  Kanakas,  were  sitting  lazily  upon  an  inverted 
canoe,  made  of  the  hollowed  trunk  of  a  tree.  The  shells  of 
other  turtles  were  lying  on  the  sand,  and  exhaled  not  the 
freshest  of  odors.  An  opening  through  the  trees  showed  us  a 
neat  cabin  behind,  surrounded  with  a  low  paling. 

The  Englishman,  who  was  civil  and  respectful,  though  si- 
lent  J  ~arely  speaking  unless  in  answer  to  our  questions,  led  the 
way  and  opened  the  door.     The  interior  was  small,  but  exceed- 


SOCIETY    OS    PEEL    ISLAND.  393 

ingly  neal  and  tasteful.  The  frame  of  the  hut,  and  the  ridge- 
poles and  rafters  were  all  of  equal  size,  and  painted  a  light 
blue  color.  The  thatch  was  of  leaves  of  the  fan-palm,  and  im 
pervious  to  rain.  There  was  an  outer  room,  with  a  table  and 
a  few  chairs,  and  two  sleeping  apartments  in  the  rear,  which 
were  kept  carefully  closed  during  the  day,  on  account  of  the 
abundance  of  mosquitos.  The  walls  were  covered  with  Chinese 
matting,  and  a  row  of  gaudily-colored  French  lithographs  of 
female  figures  hung  across  the  partition.  Within  the  paled 
enclosure  were  two  other  low,  rude  structures  of  palm  leaves, 
one  of  which  served  as  a  kitchen,  while  the  other  was  appro- 
priated to  the  Kanakas,  a  well,  and  three  flourishing  papaya 
trees  Behind  the  house  was  a  narrow  and  beautiful  plain, 
covered  with  sweet  potatoes,  melons,  and  sugar  cane,  with  the 
palm  forests  of  the  mountains  in  the  background.  The  line  of 
trees  along  the  beach  was  narrow,  and  merely  left  to  protect 
the  garden-land  in  the  rear  from  the  violence  of  sudden  squalls, 
which  sometimes  prevail  in  the  summer. 

The  Englishman  stated  that  he  had  been  seven  years  on 
the  island.  There  was  a  kind  of  hesitation  in  his  manner  of 
speaking,  which  I  fancied  arose  from  an  absence  of  intercourde 
with  civilized  society,  as  he  seemed  to  be  a  man  of  average  in- 
telligence. There  was,  apparently,  little  association  among 
the  settlers.  So  far  as  I  could  learn,  there  are  no  rules  of 
government  accepted  by  them ;  each  lives  upon  his  own  soil, 
by  virtue  of  the  right  of  pre-emption,  and  interferes  as  little  as 
possible  in  the  affairs  of  his  neighbors.  The  oldest  inhabitant, 
who  probably  exercises  a  sort  of  authority  in  cases  of  dispute^ 
is  a  native  of  Massachusetts,  named  Savory,  who  has  been  on 
the  islaud  since  1831,  and  is  considered  ^lio  richest  of  the 
17* 


o94  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

settlers.  His  money  has  been  principally  made  by  selling 
aweet  potatoes  to  whaling  ships,  at  the  rate  of  two  dollarg 
a  barrel ;  in  addition  to  which  he  has  a  still,  and  manufactures 
rum  from  sugar-cane.  At  the  time  of  our  visit  he  had  two 
hogsheads  of  it,  which  was  said  to  be  of  excellent  quality.  The 
population  is  continually  floating,  with  the  exception  of  four  or 
five  persons  who  were  among  the  original  settlers  of  the  island. 
Sailors  from  the  whaling  vessels  frequently  desert,  and  remain 
&  year  or  two,  after  which  they  embark  again.  The  whalers 
are  mostly  American,  and,  according  to  the  settlers,  generally 
conduct  themselves  peaceably.  There  was  a  flagrant  exception, 
however;  in  the  case  of  one  vessel,  the  crew  of  which  robbed 
Savory  of  $2,000  and  carried  off  the  daughter  of  Bravo,  to- 
gether with  a  Kanaka  woman.  The  persons  implicated  wert 
afterwards  arrested  at  Honolulu  for  the  abduction,  but  by  that 
time  the  women  were  satisfied  with  their  captivity,  and  de- 
clared that  they  left  the  island  of  their  own  accord. 

Fui'ther  up  the  beach,  we  found  another  hut,  inhabited  by 
an  old  Englishman,  who  had  been  there  for  more  than  twentj 
years.  He  was  upwards  of  fifty  years  old,  of  small  stature, 
but  hale  and  active,  and  the  sun,  which  had  bleached  his  brown 
hair  into  a  tow  color,  had  burned  his  face,  neck,  breast  and 
arms  of  a  deep  red.  He  seemed  to  have  wholly  forgotten  the 
world  from  which  he  came,  and  declared  his  intention  never  to 
leave  the  island,  but  to  die,  as  he  had  lived,  in  that  Pacific 
Bolitude.  He  had  a  Kanaka  woman,  named  Bet,  a  frightfully 
fat  and  ugly  creature,  but  very  good  humored.  On  our  asking 
for  water-melons,  he  sent  her  with  a  bag  into  the  field,  and 
when  she  had  returned  with  three  or  four  of  the  ripest,  the 
gAod  woman  sat  down  to  take  breath,  and  never  ceased  chuck 


A   COALING    STATION    FOR    STEAMERS.  396 

ling  with  delight  at  the  rapacity  with  which  we  sliced  a  ad  ate 
them.  We  saw  a  miinber  of  banana  trees,  but  it  was  too  soop 
in  the  season  for  the  fruit  to  be  ripe.  The  sweet  potatoes 
were  a  round,  mealy  variety,  and  superior  in  every  way  to  the 
Chinese.  The  old  man  had  a  rough  apparatus  for  crushing 
sugar-cane,  and  a  boiler  in  which  he  made  molasses  from  the 
juice  There  were  a  number  of  fowls  and  ducks  in  the  vicinity 
of  all  the  cabins,  but  so  wild,  the  people  informed  me,  that  it 
was  impossible  to  take  them  alive.  In  fact,  the  settlers  seemed 
to  lack  nothing  which  the  simple  wants  of  nature  required,  and 
probably  preferred  the  easy,  quiet  life  of  the  island,  and  its 
genial  climate,  to  the  society  of  their  homes  and  the  ruder  toils 
which  would  await  them  there.  There  have  been  moments 
when  I  have  coveted  such  a  lot ;  but  now,  nothing  could  have 
been  more  terrible  than  the  prospect  of  being  left  among  them. 
While  I  inhabit  the  world,  let  me  be  borne  on  its  most  crowded 
stream,  and  feel  the  pulses  of  its  deepest  and  most  earnest 
life! 

Commodore  Perry  saw  at  once  the  advantages  of  Port 
Lloyd  as  a  station  for  steamers,  whenever  a  line  shall  be  estab- 
lished between  China  and  California.  It  is  not  only  the  most 
eligible,  but  perhaps  the  only  spot  in  the  Pacific,  west  of  the 
Sandwich  Islands,  which  promises  to  be  of  real  advantage  for 
such  a  purpose.  It  is  about  3,300  miles  from  the  latter  place, 
and  1,100  from  Shanghai,  and  almost  on  the  direct  line  between 
the  two  points.  If  the  Sandwich  Islands  are  to  be  included  in 
the  proposed  route  (as  is  most  probable).  Peel  Island  is  even 
preferable  to  a  port  in  Japan,  which,  on  the  other  hand,  would 
be  most  conveiiiei  t  for  a  direct  northern  line  from  Oregon.  The 
Commodore,  on  fhe  day  after   our  arrival,  obtained  from   Mr 


396  IND/A,    CHIHA,    AND    JAPAN. 

Savor}  the  title  to  a  tract  of  land,  on  the  northern  side  of  th<^ 
bay,  near  its  head.  It  has  a  front  of  1,000  yards  on  the  water 
and  extends  across  the  island  to  a  small  bight  on  the  northern 
side,  which  he  named  Pleasant  Bay.  The  location  is  admirably 
adapted  for  a  coaling  station  for  steamers,  since  a  pier  fifty  feet 
long  would  strike  water  deep  enough  to  float  the  largest  vessel 
The  soil  of  Peel  Island  is  the  richest  vegetable  mould,  and 
might  be  made  to  produce  abundant  supplies,  while  its  moun- 
tain streams  furnish  a  never-failing  source  of  excellent  water. 

The  Commodore  also  paid  a  visit  to  Bucklaud  Island, 
accompanied  by  Commanders  Buchanan,  Adams  and  Walker, 
and  a  number  of  officers.  The  cattle  which  we  had  brought 
from  Shanghai  were  put  ashore  on  the  eastern  side  of  Peel 
Island,  at  a  point  where  there  was  good  water,  and,  as  Savory 
stated,  a  tolerably  large  tract  of  table-land.  The  sheep  were 
left  on  Stapleton  Island,  where  there  were  already  about  six 
thousand  wild  goats. 

On  the  day  before  leaving  Port  Lloyd,  I  went  in  a  boat  to 
examine  a  fine  marine  cave  in  a  bold  island  rock,  at  the  southern 
entrance  of  the  Bay,  to  which  Beechey  gave  the  name  of 
"  Southern  Head."  The  trap  rock,  which  here  takes  a  basaltic 
form,  exhibits  several  large  apertures,  one  of  which  extends 
through  the  Head,  to  the  beach  on  the  opposite  side.  The 
entrance  is  about  fifteen  feet  wide  and  thirty  high,  with  from 
one  to  two  fathoms  of  water.  Soon,  however,  the  roof  expands 
to  a  height  of  forty  or  Mcy  feet,  in  the  form  of  a  Gothic  arch, 
with  a  longitudinal  beam,  or  keystone,  inserted  in  the  centre 
After  rowing  along  for  twenty-five  yards,  we  came  to  a  beach 
of  smooth  pebbles,  upon  which  a  light  shone  through  from  the 
other  side,  and  passing  a  low  aich,  and  climbing  a  mound  of 


ENGLISH  CLAIMS    TO    THE    ISLAND.  397 

eartli  and  stones,  we  stood  upon  the  opposite  shore.  "In  a  largi 
rocky  headland,  lying  opposite  to  us,  there  was  a  cave  a  hun 
dred  yards  long,  passing  entirely  through,  and  traversed  by  the 
canoes  of  the  natives.  After  taking  a  bath  in  the  clear,  shaded 
waters,  where  we  had  moored  our  boat,  we  pulled  out  again 
through  another  branch  of  the  cave,  with  a  narrower  entrance. 
Not  far  from  this  there  was  still  another  cave,  wth  two  entrances, 
separated  by  a  huge  pillar  of  rock.  The  water  was  so  clear  that 
we  distinctly  saw  bottom  at  four  fathoms.  The  bod  of  the 
cavern  was  varied  with  groves  of  blue  and  purple  corals,  and 
the  rocks  beneath  the  water  line  were  studded  with  patches  of 
the  purest  emerald  green,  caused,  apparently,  by  the  combina- 
tion of  some  of  their  component  parts  with  the  salts  of  the 
sea.  Through  the  dark,  rugged  arch  of  the  entrance,  the 
bright  blue  surface  of  the  bay,  and  the  sides  of  the  palmy 
hills  beyond,  shone  with  indescribable  lustre,  like  a  picture 
burnt  in  enamel. 

Capt.  Beechey  took  possession  of  the  Benin  Islands  in  the 
name  of  Great  Britain,  though  with  what  justice  I  cannot  see, 
since  he  could  not  claim  the  right  of  discovery.  There  waa' 
some  attempt  at  one  time,  I  believe,  to  found  a  colony,  but  it 
nas  long  since  been  relinquished.  The  only  show  of  English 
sovereignty  at  the  time  of  our  visit  was  a  ragged  flag,  left  in 
the  charge  of  a  Kanaka,  who  hoisted  it  the  day  after  oilr  arri- 
val. Mellichamp,  who  was  sent  to  Port  Lloyd  by  the  English 
Consul  at  Honolulu,  had  left  nearly  two  years  previous,  fo 
Guam,  where  he  was  then  remaining,  unable,  it  was  said,  to 
leave  the  place. 


CHAPTER    XXXII. 

AX     EXPLORIXG     TRIP     THROUGH      PEEL     ISLAXD. 

Exploring  Parties  Appointed — My  Part — Setting  Out — Climbing  the  Hills — The 
Soil  and  Productions — Land-Crabs — Crossing  a  Ridge — A  Tropical  Ravine — 
Signs  of  Habitation — A  Marquesan  and  his  Household — South  Sea  Pilots — The 
Valley — The  Forest  Again — Trees — Shooting  a  Wild  Boar — The  Southern  Coast 
— A  Precipice — Dangerous  Climbing — A  Frightful  Ravine — Descending  the 
Precipices — South  East  Bay — The  Nom-Camp — Ascent  of  the  Ravine — The 
Party  beginning  to  Fag — The  Valley  Again — A  Slippery  Ascent — A  Man  Lost — 
Firing  Signals — Return  to  the  Vessel. 

Ox  the  day  of  our  arrival  at  Port  Lloyd,  Commodore 
Perry  announced  his  determination  to  send  two  exploring 
parties  into  the  interior  of  the  island  on  the  following 
day.  Dr.  Fahs,  Assistant  Surgeon,  was  appointed  to  the 
command  of  one,  and  myself  of  the  other.  A  number  of 
volunteers  at  once  offered  themselves,  and  we  made  our 
selections  and  arranged  our  plans  without  delay.  AYe 
were  supplied  with  carbines,  ammunition,  and  haversacks, 
with  a  day's  rations.  The  island  is  not  more  than  six  miles 
in  length,  in  a  straight  line,  so  that  it  was  thought  that 
two  parties  might  readily  explore  the  whole  of  it  iu  the 
course  of  a  day.  Dr.  Fahs  and  I  accordingly  divided 
it  between  us,  he  taking  the  northern  portion,   or  that 


CLIMBING    THE    HILLB.  399 

lying  immediately  around  Port  Lloyd,  while  I  decided  to  strike 
across  the  central  part  of  the  island  to  its  southern  extremity 
touching  by  the  way,  if  possible,  on  Fitton  Bay,  a  harbor  od 
the  eastern  coast. 

My  party  consisted  of  Mr.  Heine,  artist ;  Mr.  Boardman, 
Midshipman ;  Mr.  Lawreuce,  Assistant  Engineer ;  Mr.  Hamp- 
ton, Purser's  Steward ;  Dennis  Terry,  a  seaman ;  Smith,  a 
marine,  and  a  Chinese  coolie.  We  left  the  ship's  side  before 
sunrise,  and  were  put  ashore  at  the  watering-place  at  the  head 
of  the  bay.  I  divided  the  rations  and  ammunition,  allotting  to 
each  man  his  share,  so  that  we  all  carried  light  loads.  There 
was  no  one  at  the  watering-place  except  a  Kanaka,  whom  we 
could  not  obtain  for  a  guide.  He  pointed  out,  however,  a 
small  foot-path,  which  he  said  went  over  the  hills  to  a  Kanaka 
settlement,  about  three  miles  distant.  We  struck  into  it  at 
once,  plunging  into  a  wilderness  of  dense  vegetation,  which 
furnished  a  faint  type  of  our  experience  for  the  rest  of  the  day. 

The  path  was  steep  and  slippery ;  the  plants  were  wet  with 
a  heavy  dew,  and  the  wild  parasitic  vines  which  hung  from  tree 
to  tree,  continually  caught  us  in  their  toils.  The  trees  were 
principally  palm,  among  which  I  noticed  the  true  sago  palm, 
from  which  the  sago  of  commerce  is  made.  The  soil  was  a  rich, 
dark  red  loam,  composed  of  disintegrated  trap  rock  and  vege- 
table mould.  The  same  soil  prevails  all  over  the  island,  so  far 
as  my  observations  extended,  except  on  the  northern  shore  of 
Port  Lloyd,  where  it  is  mixed  with  a  grayish  sand  and  pebbles 
Trap  rock,  of  a  coarse  texture,  appeared  frequently  on  thu 
Bteeper  declivities  of  the  ridge,  and  I  noticed  growing  in  the 
crevices  a  variety  of  the  hibiscus,  with  a  large  flower  of  a  dull 
orange  color      The  ground  was  in  many  places  covered  with 


<00  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    J  AT  AN. 

a  shower  of  white  blossoms,  which  I  afterwards  found  ha3 
dropped  from  a  tree  about  thirty  feet  high,  with  a  small 
glossy  leaf,  thick  foliage,  and  a  stout  trunk  of  a  whitish  color 

The  forest  became  more  dense  as  we  reached  the  summit 
of  the  ridge.  The  thick,  luxuriant  crowns  of  the  palms,  above 
our  heads,  kept  out  the  rays  of  the  sun,  and  the  trunks  and 
creepers  combined  made  such  an  impervious  shade  that  it  was 
impossible  to  see  more  than  fifteen  or  twenty  yards  in  any 
direction.  The  path  was  but  little  used,  and  rather  difficult 
to  be  traced.  As  we  came  into  the  beds  of  water-courses 
leading  down  the  opposite  side,  the  multitudes  of  large  brown 
land-crabs  that  scampered  out  of  our  path  was  truly  amazing. 
The  ground  was  alive  with  them  in  the  cool,  moist  corners  of 
the  ravines,  and  some  of  them  were  fully  six  inches  in  breadth 
The  top  of  the  ridge,  an  undulating  region,  furrowed  with  deep 
guUeys,  was  about  a  mile  and  a  half  in  breadth,  after  which 
we  came  upon  a  descent  at  so  sharp  an  angle  that  we  were 
obliged  to  swing  ourselves  down  from  tree  to  tree,  to  prevent 
tumbling  into  the  bottom  of  the  ravine.  An  opening  through 
the  woods  showed  us  a  wild  dell,  completely  shut  in  by  precipi- 
tous mountains,  every  foot  of  whose  sides,  except  the  walls  of 
naked  rock  on  either  hand,  was  covered  with  the  richest  foliage. 
A  stream  of  good  water  lapsed  over  the  rocky  bottom,  fringed 
by  rank  thickets  of  palm  and  other  trees,  while  the  bristling 
pandanus  thrust  its  serried,  spiky  leaves  over  the  tops  of  the 
clilfs,  and  the  long,  loose  tresses  of  flowering  creepers,  shaken 
from  some  overhanging  bough,  swung  in  the  air.  The  scenery 
was  tropical  in  every  feature,  and  as  wild  and  rugged  as  nature 
could  make  it. 

The  ravine  opened  to  the  southward  into  a  narrow  vallet 


A   MARQUESAN    AND    HIS    HOUSEHOLD.  401 

(yhicb  showed  signs  of  being  inhabited.  Crossing  the  stream 
we  came  upon  a  patch  of  the  taro  plant,  the  stalks  of  whiel 
were  the  highest  and  most  luxuriant  I  ever  saw.  We  here  losi 
the  path,  and  struck  directly  through  the  taro.  It  was  fullj/ 
six  feet  high,  and  so  drenched  with  the  night's  dew  that  we 
were  speedily  wet  to  the  skin.  Finding  the  forest  beyond  im- 
practicable, on  account  of  its  steepness  and  density,  we  re- 
turned to  the  bed  of  the  stream.  The  little  valley  into  which 
it  ushered  us  was  covered  with  patches  of  sweet  potato,  taro, 
pumpkins,  tobacco,  sugar-cane,  and  the  sida^  or  Indian  goose 
berry,  growing  with  a  prodigal  strength  and  luxuriance.  Two 
huts  thatched  with  palm-leaves,  stood  in  the  centre  of  the 
ralley.  Finding  them  both  deserted,  though  exhibiting  evi 
deuces  of  having  been  occupied  that  morning,  we  £red  oui 
guns,  the  report  of  which  was  answered  by  a  hail.  Presently 
a  South-Sea  Islander,  in  a  coarse  cotton  shirt  and  pantaloons, 
and  with  one  half  of  his  face  tattooed  a  light  blue,  made  his 
appearance.  He  said  he  was  a  native  of  Nukaheva,  in  the 
Marquesas,  and  his  name  was  "  Judge."  He  conducted  us 
around  the  corner  of  the  mountain,  where  the  valley  opened 
westward  to  the  sea.  The  stream  became  a  creek  deep  enough 
for  canoes,  in  one  of  which  the  Judge  had  just  arrived,  bring- 
ing a  large  turtle  with  him  He  was  already  half  through  with 
the  operation  of  cutting  up  the  flesh,  while  four  dogs  looked 
OQ  wistfully,  waiting  to  pick  the  shell  when  he  should  have 
finished.  The  Judge  was  apparently  in  good  circumstances, 
having  in  addition  to  his  hut,  his  plantation,  his  turtles  and 
dogs,  a  pen  of  black  hogs.  I  asked  him  to  accompany  us  to 
the  southern  extremity  of  the  island,  which  he  said  was  aboul 
three  or  four  miles  distant      There  was  no  path,  and   be  did 


:t02  INDIA,    CHINA,    iND    JAPAN. 

QOt  seem  inclined  to  go,  but  he  sent  his  boy  after  a  companion, 
who,  he  said,  could  pilot  us  over  the  hills.  The  latter  was  a 
tawny  native  of  Otaheite,  and  spoke  very  little  English.  He 
confessed  that  he  knew  the  way,  as  well  as  the  wild-boar  haunts 
in  the  woods,  but  refused  to  go  without  the  Judge.  As  it  was 
next  to  impossible  to  find  our  way  without  a  guide,  I  settled 
the  mattei  by  taking  both. 

The  valley  was  bounded  on  the  south  by  high  mountains, 
which  appeared  to  us  impassable,  on  account  of  the  lines  of 
mural  rock,  rising  one  above  another  to  their  very  summits.  The 
main  branch,  however,  was  not  that  into  which  we  had  at  first 
descended,  but  ran  away  to  the  eastward,  whence  the  stream 
came  down  a  long  ravine,  between  two  peaks.  The  natives 
informed  me  that  the  sea  was  about  half  a  mile  distant,  from 
which  I  should  judge  the  entire  length  of  the  valley  to  be  near 
a  mile  and  a  half,  with  an  average  breadth  of  a  quarter  of  a 
mile.  Its  bed  is  the  richest  loam,  and  all  the  vegetables  planted 
by  the  settlers  were  unequalled  of  their  kind.  The  stream  ol 
water  is  sweet  and  pure,  and  the  supply  is  constant  in  all  sea 
sons.  I  saw  several  lemons  in  the  Judge's  hut,  which  had  been 
raised  in  the  valley.  The  tebacco  was  five  feet  in  height,  and 
had  the  same  pale  green,  velvety  leaves,  which  characterize  the 
famous  tobacco  of  Latakieh. 

We  proceeded  in  a  south-eastern  direction  into  the  ravine, 
which,  we  ascended,  following  the  water  course.  Large  rounded 
masses  of  trap  rock  lay  in  its  bed,  and  still  further  we  came 
upon  large  perpendicular  crags  of  greenstone,  from  ten  to  forty 
feet  in  height.  In  some  places  beds  of  a  coarse  conglomerate, 
which  had  frequently  an  appearance  of  sandstone,  rested  upon 
the  trap.     The  forest  was  very  dense,  and  from  the  moist,  unc 


KILLING    A    WILD    BOAB.  403 

tuous  nature  of  the  soil,  our  progress  was  exceedingly  toil 
Bome.  The  further  we  ascended,  the  darker  and  deeper  be* 
came  the  wood,  and  as  the  Otaheitan  informed  us  we  were  no^w 
in  tlic  neighborhood  of  wild  boars,  we  crept  forward  silently 
Bnd  cautiously.  While  we  were  resting  on  the  top  of  a  cliff, 
two  of  the  party,  who  were  in  the  rear,  started  a  boar  and  shot 
at  him,  but  unsuccessfully.  After  leaving  the  water  course  we 
climbed  the  side  of  the  ravine  by  clinging  to  the  roots  of  trees 
and  the  tough  cordage  of  parasitic  vines.  The  party  became 
scattered,  owing  to  the  absence  of  any  path,  and  the  impossi- 
bility of  seeing  more  than  ten  yards  in  any  direction.  Among 
the  palms  I  noticed  a  variety  with  broad  fan-leaves,  and  leaf- 
stems  six  to  eight  feet  in  length,  the  jagged  edges  of  which 
wounded  our  hands.  There  was  also  a  variety  of  the  pandanus, 
with  a  singlf*  straight  trunk,  from  near  the  base  of  which  pro- 
jected a  number  of  shoots  or  props,  which  became  roots  aftei 
they  reached  the  soil.  There  were  frequently  twenty  or  thirty 
of  them,  forming  a  pyramidal  basis  to  the  slender  column, 
which  rose  about  fifteen  feet,  crowned  with  its  leafy  capital. 

While  halting  on  the  top  of  the  ridge  for  the  rest  of  the 
party  to  come  up,  the  dogs  commenced  barking  in  a  ravine  on 
the  other  side.  Two  of  the  ofl&cers  started  off  at  once,  and  in 
a  short  time  we  heard  shots  at  a  distance.  We  made  for  the 
Bound,  and  after  plunging  through  a  frightful  thicket  of  the 
horny-leaved  pandanus,  in  the  midst  of  which  I  found  a  wild 
boar's  lair,  reached  the  bed  of  a  brook,  where  the  hunters  were 
gathered  about  a  young  boar.  He  was  about  a  year  old,  and 
of  a  dark  brownish-gray  color,  with  a  long  snout,  resembling 
the  Chinese  hog.  We  took  out  the  liver  and  kidneys,  and  sus- 
pended the  body  to  a  tree,  to  be  left  until  our  return     Is 


404  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

another  half  hour  we  had  crossed  the  dividing  ridge  of  the 
island,  and  began  to  descend  the  southern  side.  Through  an 
opening  in  the  foliage  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  sea^  and  climbed 
a  tree  to  obtain  a  look-ont.  I  found  that  we  were  on  the  broA» 
of  a  very  steep  ridge,  about  1,500  feet  in  height,  looking  down 
upon  a  small  bay,  opening  to  the  south-east.  Beyond  its  south- 
ern promontory  the  sea  was  again  visible,  with  the  group  of 
Bailly's  Islands  in  the  distance.  The  mountains  descended  in 
precipices  to  the  water,  so  that  access  was  impossible,  except 
near  the  head  of  the  bay,  where  two  abrupt  ravines,  or  rather 
chasms,  showed  a  speck  of  sandy  beach  at  their  meeting. 

The  Otaheitan  professed  to  know  the  way,  and  set  out, 
creeping  slowly  down  the  steep,  we  following,  forcing  our  way 
on  our  hands  and  knees  through  almost  impervious  thickets, 
until  a  sudden  light  broke  through  the  wilderness,  and  we 
found  ourselves  on  the  brink  of  a  precipice,  the  height  of  which 
we  could  not  then  estimate,  though  I  afterwards  saw  that  it 
must  be  near  two  hundred  feet.  From  its  base  the  mountain 
sloped  away  so  steeply  to  the  brink  of  other  precipices  below 
that  we  seemed  to  swing  in  the  air,  suspended  over  the  great 
depth  which  intervened  between  us  and  the  sea.  My  head 
reeled  for  a  moment,  as  I  found  myself  perched  on  such  a  giddy 
height,  and  either  retreat  or  descent  seemed  impossible.  The 
guide,  it  was  evident,  had  taken  us  too  far  to  the  left,  and  it 
was  necessary  partly  to  retrace  our  steps,  in  order  to  regain  a 
position  which  would  enable  us  to  avoid  the  precipice.  We 
elung  cautiously  to  the  strong  grass  which  grew  on  the  brink, 
and  thus  crept  along  for  about  two  hundred  yards,  over  a  place 
where  the  least  impetus  would  have  sent  us  headlong  hundreds 
of  feet  below.     On  this  part  of  the  mountain  I  found  a  shriil 


SOING    DOWN    THE    PRECIPICE.  40t; 

rfith.  a  dark,  glossy  leaf,  which  diffused  a  powerful  balsamic 
odor.  Finally,  attaining  a  point  where  the  precipice  ceased, 
we  commenced  going  downward  at  the  angle  of  about  60"' 
The  soil  was  so  slippery,  and  the  vines  and  horny  leaves  of  the 
palms  hung  so  low,  that  the  best  way  of  descending  was  to  lir 
fiat  on  one's  back,  and  slide  down  until  brought  up  by  a  thicket 
too  dense  to  get  through. 

With  an  infinite  deal  of  labor,  and  at  the  risk  of  our  necks, 
we  at  last  reached  the  ravine,  or  chasm,  and  hoped  that  thf 
worst  of  our  toils  were  over.  But  the  worst  was  yet  to  come 
I  can  place  implicit  faith  in  Herman  Melville's  account  of 
the  precipices  of  Typee,  after  our  own  experience,  which,  in 
fact,  bore  a  striking  resemblance  to  his.  The  ravine  descended 
by  a  succession  of  rocky  steps  from  ten  to  forty  and  fifty  feet 
in  perpendicular  height,  down  which  we  clambered  with  hands 
and  feet,  often  trusting  the  soundness  of  our  bones,  if  not  our 
very  lives,  to  the  frail  branch  of  a  tree,  or  to  the  hold  of  a  root 
dangling  from  the  brink.  As  from  the  top  of  a  tower,  we 
looked  on  the  beach,  lying  at  our  very  feet,  and  seemingly  to  be 
reached  by  a  single  leap,  though  still  far  below.  Down,  down 
we  went  into  the  black  depths  of  the  chasm,  in  constant  fear 
of  reaching  a  wall  which  we  could  not  pass,  until  at  the  junc- 
tion of  another  ravine,  we  came  upon  the  hewn  stump  of  a 
tree,  a  sign  that  others  before  us  had  penetrated  the  wilder- 
ness^  and  heard  the  roar  of  the  surf  near  at  hand.  The  seaman, 
Terry  who  had  accompanied  me  on  the  exploring  trip  through 
Loo-Choo,  and  myself,  were  considerably  in  advance  of  the 
rest  of  the  party  Terry  was  a  man  after  my  own  heart,  for 
Buch  an  expedition  Nothing  could  daunt  him,  and  no  hard 
?hips  could  tire  him  out.     We  sat  down  on  tlie  beach,  under  aD 


406  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAK. 

overhanging  rock,  and  looked  back  on  the  steep  down  whici 
we  had  clomb.  When  I  saw  it  from  below,  and  discerned  the 
last  of  the  party  standing  on  the  brink  of  one  of  the  crags, 
showing  us  what  our  own  position  had  been,  I  could  scarcely 
believe  our  descent  possible. 

The  guides  called  the  place  "  South-East  Bay."  They 
stated  that  it  was  frequently  visited  by  whalers,  for  wood  and 
water ;  which  accounts  for  the  stump  of  the  tree,  and  the  pre- 
sence of  a  patch  of  tomatoes,  which  we  found  growing  in  a  wild 
state,  along  the  banks  of  the  stream.  The  fruit  was  about  the 
size  of  a  cherry,  and  very  fresh  and  palatable.  When  all  had 
arrived,  we  built  a  fire  under  the  eaves  of  the  rocks,  and  while 
the  dry  drift-wood  was  burning  to  embers,  took  a  bath  in  the 
sea.  The  water  was  deliciously  cool,  and  the  long,  heavy  swells 
rolled  directly  in  from  the  Pacific  and  broke  over  our  heads. 
We  broiled  the  boar's  liver  on  pieces  of  coral,  and  this,  with  8 
ship's  ration  of  salt  pork  and  biscuit,  and  a  few  handfuls  of 
raw  tomatoes,  made  us  a  most  palatable  repast.  By  the  time 
we  had  sufficiently  rested,  and  Mr.  Heine  had  made  a  sketch  of 
the  bay,  it  was  two  o'clock,  and  I  therefore  broke  up  the  camp 
and  started  homeward. 

The  natives  said  that  there  was  no  other  way  of  returning 
except  the  road  by  which  we  came.  We  all  shrank  from  the 
idea  of  climbing  that  terrible  path,  but  there  was  no  help  for 
it.  Up  we  must  go,  and  up  we  went,  clinging  for  life  to  the 
roots  of  trees,  or  the  sharp  little  corners  of  the  rocks  with  one 
hand,  while  we  clutched  our  carbines  with  the  other.  There 
was  not  a  breath  of  air :  the  tli  rmom.ter  must  have  shown  at 
least  90*^,  and  the  toil  was  so  severe  that  one  of  the  parliy 
became  ill,  and  lagged  behind.     We  were  obliged  to  halt  everv 


THE    PARTY   BEGINING    TO    PAO.  407 

fiye  minutes,  for  two  others  also  begau  to  show  signs  of  exhau* 
tion,  and  were  more  than  once  on  the  point  of  giving  out.  But 
all  things  must  have  an  end,  and  at  length  we  reached  the  sum- 
mit ridge,  whence  the  descent  to  the  ravine  where  we  had  left 
the  wild  boar  was  comparatively  easy,  after  what  we  had  already 
gone  through.  The  Otaheitan  shouldered  the  boar,  and  wi 
returned,  with  but  one  or  two  halts  to  rest  the  exhausted  mem- 
bers of  the  party,  to  the  native  huts  in  the  valley,  where  W' 
arrived  a  little  before  six  o'clock.  One  of  the  gentlemen  wat 
by  this  time  so  much  spent  that  he  hired  the  Otaheitan  to  carr^ 
him  in  a  canoe  round  to  the  Kanaka  settlement  at  the  southen 
end  of  Port  Lloyd,  the  rest  of  us  taking  a  path  which  le<3 
thither  by  land. 

The  evening  was  cloudy  and  rain  began  to  fall,  which 
hastened  our  departure.  Ascending  the  same  ravine  by  which 
we  had  reached  the  valley,  as  far  as  the  taro  patch,  the  Judge 
turned  suddenly  to  the  left  and  began  climbing  the  slippery 
side  of  the  mountain  at  an  angle  of  about  50°.  He  declared 
that  this  was  the  usual  road,  but  my  eyes,  although  somewhat 
exercised  in  wood-craft,  could  not  detect  the  least  trace  of  a 
path.  Under  the  thick  clusters  of  sago  palms  was  a  dense  un 
dergrowth  of  fern,  in  which  we  could  gain  no  foothold,  and 
were  continually  falling  flat  on  our  faces.  The  Judge  himself 
began  to  be  fagged  by  this  time,  and  frequently  proposed  that 
we  should  rest.  The  others  were  in  no  wise  averse  to  this,  but 
I  felt  little  fatigue  from  the  labors  of  the  day,  and  was  so  anx 
tons  to  reach  the  Kanaka  settlement  before  dark  that  I  hurried 
iLem  oiiward.  After  gaining  the  summit,  the  way  was  easier, 
and  we  met  with  occasional  faint  traces  of  a  path  Passing 
over  an  undulating  tract  for  a  mile  or  more,  we  came  upon  the 


108  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

western  slope  of  the  island,  overlooking  Southern  Head,  and 
the  entrance  to  Port  Lloyd.  I  now  saw  that  a  deep,  picturesque 
bight  made  in  below  the  Head  to  the  mouth  of  the  valley  we 
I"  ad  left,  and  that  the  shortest  and  most  usual  route  of  the  na- 
tives between  the  two  settlements,  was  by  sea.  The  sides  of 
the  hills  we  traversed  were  covered  with  a  deep,  coarse  grass, 
waist-high,  and  so  thick  that  we  fairly  waded  through  it.  It 
was  a  fortunate  circumstance  for  us  that  there  are  no  venom- 
ous reptiles  on  the  island. 

I  was  in  advance,  the  others  being  scattered  along  the  side 
of  the  hill,  when  I  happened  to  notice  that  one  of  the  party 
was  missing.  I  sent  back  the  coolie,  and  then  the  Judge,  and 
finally  ordered  a  halt,  while  I  returned  to  look  for  him.  After 
calling  and  searching  for  some  time  without  effect,  he  was  at 
last  found  lying  in  the  bottom  of  a  glen,  asleep,  as  he  stated. 
He  stumbled  along  with  us  for  a  short  time,  when  he  tumbled 
mto  the  grass,  declaring  that  he  was  utterly  exhausted,  and 
would  remain  there  all  night.  Finding  that  we  could  not  get 
him  to  go  forward,  we  picked  him  up  by  main  force,  and  carried 
him  to  the  summit  of  the  hill,  where  I  left  a  man  in  charge  of 
him  while  we  hastened  down,  in  order  to  gain  the  flag-staff 
above  the  Kanaka  settlement,  and  fire  a  volley  to  bring  a  boat 
off  for  us.  We  plunged  through  the  cane-fields,  stumbled  up  the 
hill,  and  found  ourselves  on  a  high  cliff,  overlooking  the  bay. 
The  big  hull  of  the  Susquehanna  was  barely  visible  in  the 
darkness.  "We  fired  half  a  dozen  volleys,  when  we  heard  the 
report  of  musketry  from  the  base  of  the  Paps,  at  the  head  of 
the  bay.  It  was,  as  we  conjectured,  the  party  of  Dr.  Fahs, 
signalizing  like  ourselves  for  a  boat.  At  length,  fearful  lest 
our  signal  should  not  have  been  heard,  I  sent  the  marine  in  a 


RETURN    TO    THE    VESSEL.  40S 

canoe  to  bring  a  boat.  He  met  the  first  cutter  half  way,  but 
the  tide  being  out,  she  was  obliged  to  anchor  off  the  reef  in 
front  of  the  settlement,  and  send  the  canoe  to  take  us  in  small 
companies. 

We  waited  half  an  hour  for  our  missing  comrade,  and  finally 
eached  the  ship's  side  about  10  o'clock  weary  and  famished. 
Though  I  suffered  less,  I  believe,  than  most  of  the  others  it  \vaf 
certainly  the  hardest  day's  work  of  my  life. 

18 


CHAPTER    XXXII 1. 

¥OYAGE    TO    JAPAN   AND   RECEPTION    THEBk 

Return  to  Loo-Choo — Malls— Departure  for  Japan — The  Island  of  Ohoeim*  -The 
Japanese  Coast— The  Headland  of  Idzu  -Precautionary  Measures— Cape  Sagaml— 
The  Bay  of  Yedo — Approach  to  Uraga— A  Hint — The  Squadron  Halts— Japanese 
Boats — A  Talk  at  the  Gangway— The  Vice  Governor  of  Uraga— His  Reception— 
The  Boats  Kepulsed— Japanese  Boatmen— Watch-fires — Tezalmon,  Governor  of 
Uraga- Consultations — An  Express  to  Yedo — The  Emperor  appoints  a  Commissionei 
—Permission  to  Land — Skilful  Negotiations — Scenery  of  the  Bay— The  Fortifica- 
tions—The Peak  of  Fu.~-i-Yamma— Canva?  Defences— A  Surveying  Party— Sounding 
along  Shore— Forts  and  Soldiers— Threatened  Collision— A  Second  Survey— A  Mi- 
rage—Wurlike  Appearances— Lieut  Bent's  Encounter  with  Forty-five  Japanes* 
Boats— Eeeult  of  the  Survey. 

On  our  retorn  to  Loo-Choo,  where  we  arrived  on  the  24th  ol 
June,  we  found  the  Plymouth  in  the  harbor.  She  had  left 
Shanghai  in  comparative  quiet,  and  with  no  present  apprehen- 
sion of  an  attack.  She  was  most  welcome,  on  account  of  hav 
bg  brought  the  mails  for  the  squadron.  After  having  been 
seven  months  without  news  from  home,  the  delight  with  which 
1  received  a  large  package  of  letters  can  only  be  comprehended 
by  those  who  have  had  similar  experiences.  As  all  the  vessels 
oomposing  the  squadron  at  that  time  were  now  at  the  rendez- 
vous, immediate  preparations  were  made  for  our  departure  for 
Japan.  Owing  to  the  foresight  with  which  the  vessels  had 
been  supplied,  little  was  needed  exceot  a  stock  of  fresh  provi 


THE    JAPANESE    COAST  411 

iiouB,  which  the  Loo-Choo   authorities,  after  some  delay  and 
oquivocatioD,  furnished  us  at  double  the  ordinary  price. 

The  squadron,  consisting  of  the  Susquehanna  (flag-ship), 
Mississippi,  Plymouth  and  Saratoga — the  two  sloops  of  war 
being  taken  in  tow  by  the  two  steamers — sailed  from  the  har- 
bor of  Napa-Kiang,  on  the  2d  of  July.  On  the  night  of  the 
3d  and  morning  of  the  4th,  we  passed  the  large  island  of  Oho- 
sima,  part  of  the  Kingdom  of  Loo-Choo.  This  island,  which 
has  been  known  to  the  Dutch,  through  the  Japanese  charts, 
and  was  seen  by  the  French  Admiral  Cecille  in  1846,  is  not 
found  on  English  charts.  The  U  S.  ship  Preble,  in  1849, 
supposed  she  had  made  the  first  discovery  of  it,  and  gave  it  the 
name  of  "  Preble  Island."  It  has  never  been  visited  by  a 
foreign  vessel.  It  is  thirty  or  forty  miles  long,  mountainona, 
and  thickly  inhabited.  After  passing  it  we  had  very  sultry 
weather,  until  we  reached  Japan — the  thermometer  standing 
at  84®  at  night,  and  88°  to  90°  at  noon,  in  the  coolest  place 
on  board.   . 

At  daybreak,  on  the  morning  of  July  8,  we  first  made  land, 
which  proved  to  be  Cape  Idzu,  a  lofty  headland  on  the  coast  of 
Niphon,  not  far  south  of  the  entrance  of  the  great  Bay  of  Yedo. 
The  Brocken  and  Vulcan  Islands  were  in  sight  on  our  right 
After  passing  Bock  Island,  we  stood  in  nearer  to  the  shore, 
which  loomed  up  grandly  through  the  hazy  atmosphere.  The 
promontory  of  Idzu  is  a  group  of  mountains,  rising  to  the  height 
of  five  or  six  thousand  feet,  their  summits  scarred  with  slides, 
and  their  sides  mostly  covered  with  forests,  though  here  and 
there  we  could  discern  patches  of  cultivated  land.  There  were 
a  number  of  fishing  junks  off"  the  coast,  some  of  which  put  back 
again  as  we  approached.    The  wind  was  ahead,  we  had  all  sails 


il2  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

furled  and  the  yards  squared,  and  the  sight  of  oni  two  im- 
mense steamers — the  first  that  ever  entered  Japanese  waters — 
dashing  along  at  the  rate  of  nine  knots  an  hour,  must  have 
Btruck  the  natives  with  the  utmost  astonishment. 

Leaving  the  mountains  of  Idzu  behind  us,  we  stood  across 
he  mouth  of  the  Bay  of  Kowadzu  (as  the  southern  half  of  the 
bifurcate  Bay  of  Yedo  is  called),  toward  Cape  Sagami  at  the 
extremity  of  the  promontory  which  divides  the  two.  The  noon 
observation  gave  lat.  34°  67'  N.  and  soon  afterwards  Cape 
Sagami  came  in  sight.  We  lay  to  while  the  Captains  of  the 
Mississippi,  Plymouth  and  Saratoga  came  on  board,  to  receive 
instructions,  and  then  resumed  our  course.  The  decks  were 
cleared  for  action,  the  guns  shotted,  the  small  arms  put  in 
complete  order,  and  every  precaution  taken,  in  case  we  should 
meet  with  a  hostile  reception.  Near  Cape  Sagami  we  descried 
a  large  town,  and  as  we  came  within  two  miles  of  the  shore,  a 
number  of  junks,  amounting  to  twelve  or  fifteen,  put  ofi",  with 
the  evident  intention  of  visiting  us.  Each  one  bore  a  large 
banner,  upon  which  characters  were  inscribed.  The  rapidity 
of  our  progress,  against  the  wind,  soon  left  them  behind,  no 
doubt  completely  nonplussed  as  to  the  invisible  power  which 
bore  us  away  from  them.  The  Bay  now  began  to  be  thickly 
studded  with  fishing  smacks,  with  here  and  there  a  large 
junk. 

The  shores  of  Sagami  are  exceedingly  picturesque  and 
beautiful.  They  rise  in  abrupt  bluffs,  two  hundred  feet  in 
height,  gashed  with  narrow  dells  of  the  brightest  verdure, 
jvhich  slope  steeply  down  to  the  water,  while  the  country  be- 
hind rises  in  undulating  hills,  displaying  a  charming  altemar 
tion    of  groves  and  cultivated  fields.     In  the  distance  rose 


JAPANESE    BOATS.  4  IS 

mouEtam  ranges,  receding  behind  each  othei  until  the  vapoi 
hid  their  farthest  summits.  The  eastern  coast,  belonging 
to  the  province  of  Awa,  now  came  in  sight  ahead  of  us,  for 
we  were  entering  the  narrowest  part  of  the  Bay,  leading  to  the 
apper  Bay  of  Yedo.  The  distance  from  shore  to  shore  here 
varies  from  five  to  eight  miles,  but  afterwards  expands  to 
twelve  or  fifteen. 

We  kept  directly  up  the  Bay,  and  in  half  an  hour  after 
doubling  Cape  Sagami  saw  before  us  a  bold  promontory  mak- 
ing out  from  the  western  coast,  at  the  entrance  of  the  Upper 
Bay.  Within  it  was  the  Bight  of  Uraga,  and  we  could  plainly 
see  the  town  of  the  same  name  at  the  head  of  it.  The  Ply- 
mouth and  Saratoga  were  cast  off,  and  we  advanced  slowly, 
sounding  as  we  went,  until  we  had  advanced  more  than  a  mile 
beyond  the  point  reached  by  the  Columbus  and  the  Morrison. 
We  were  about  a  mile  and  a  half  from  the  promontory,  when 
two  discharges  of  cannon  were  heard  from  a  battery  at  its  ex- 
tremity, and  immediately  afterwards  a  light  ball  of  smoke  in 
the  air  showed  that  a  shell  had  been  thrown  up.  An  order 
v^as  immediately  given  to  let  go  the  anchor,  but  as  the  lead  still 
sLowed  25  fathoms,  the  steamer's  head  was  put  in  toward  the 
shore,  and  in  a  few  minutes  the  anchor  was  dropped. 

Another  shell  was  fired  after  we  came  to  anchor,  and  four 
or  five  boats  filled  with  Japanese  approached  us.  The  rowers^ 
who  were  all  tall,  athletic  men,  naked  save  a  cloth  around  the 
loins,  shouted  lustily  as  they  sculled  with  all  their  strength 
toward  us.  The  boats  were  of  uupainted  wood,  very  sharp  in 
the  bows,  carrying  their  greatest  breadth  of  beam  well  aft,  and 
were  propelled  with  great  rapidity.  The  resemblance  of  theii 
model  to  that  of  the  yacht  America,  struck  every  body  ob 


414  IKDIA.    CHINA.    AND    J  vPAN. 

board.  In  the  stern  of  each  was  a  small  flag,  with  three  hori 
aontal  stripes,  the  central  one  black  and  the  other  white.  In 
each  were  several  persons,  who,  by  their  dress  and  the  two 
awords  smck  in  their  belts,  appeared  to  be  men  of  authority. 

The  first  boat  came  alongside,  and  one  of  the  two-sworded 
individuals  made  signs  for  the  gangway  to  be  let  down.  Thii 
was  refused,  but  Mr.  Wells  Williams,  the  Interpreter,  and  Mr. 
Portman,  the  Commodore's  clerk  (who  was  a  native  of  Holland)^ 
went  to  the  ship's  side  to  state  that  nobody  would  be  received 
on  board,  except  the  first  in  rank  at  Uraga.  The  conversa- 
tion was  carried  on  principally  in  Dutch,  which  the  interpre- 
ter spoke  very  well.  He  asked  at  once  if  we  were  not  Ameri- 
caDS,  and  by  his  manner  of  asking  showed  that  our  coming  had 
been  anticipated.  He  was  told  that  the  Commander  of  the 
squadron  was  an  officer  of  very  high  rank  in  the  United  States, 
and  could  only  communicate  with  the  first  in  rank  on  shore. 
After  a  long  parley,  the  Vice-Governor  of  Uraga,  who  was  ic 
the  boat,  was  allowed  to  come  on  board  with  the  Interpreter 
and  confer  with  Lieut.  Contee,  the  Flag  Lieutenant.  The  Jap- 
anese official,  a  fiery  little  fellow,  was  much  exasperated  a/ 
being  kept  in  waiting,  but  soon  moderated  his  tone.  He  was 
told  that  we  came  as  friends,  upon  a  peaceable  mission  ;  that 
we  should  not  go  to  Naugasaki,  as  he  proposed,  and  that  it  was 
iuiiulting  to  our  President  and  his  special  minister  to  propose 
it  He  was  told,  moreover,  that  the  Japanese  must  not  commu* 
nfcate  with  any  other  vessel  than  the  flag-ship,  and  that  no  boats 
must  approach  us  during  the  night.  An  attempt  to  surround 
as  with  a  cordon  of  boats,  as  in  the  case  of  the  Columbus  and 
Vincennes,  would  lead  to  very  serious  consequences.  They  had 
with  them  an  official  notice,  w  ritten  in  French,  Dutch  and  En^ 


JAPANESE    BOATS    WARNED    OFP.  415 

lish,  and  intended  as  a  general  warning  to  all  foreign  vessels 
directing  them  to  go  no  further,  to  remain  out  at  sea,  and  send 
word  ashore,  why  they  came  and  what  they  wanted.  Thia 
Lieut.  Contee  declined  to  see  or  ackowledge  in  any  way.  The 
same  notice  was  taken  to  the  Plymouth  by  another  boat,  which 
waa  at  once  ordered  off. 

Commodore  Perry  had  evidently  made  up  his  mind  from  the 
first  not  to  submit  to  the  surveillance  of  boats.  The  dignified 
and  decided  stand  he  took  produced  an  immediate  impression 
upon  the  Japanese.  They  were  convinced  that  he  was  in  ear- 
nest, and  that  all  the  tricks  and  delays  with  which  they  are  in 
the  habit  of  wheedling  foreign  visitors  would  be  used  in  vain. 
Several  boats  having  followed  the  first  one,  and  begun  to  collect 
round  us,  the  Vice-Governor  was  told  that  if  they  did  not 
return  at  once,  they  would  be  fired  into.  One  of  them  went  to 
the  Mississippi ;  and  after  being  repulsed  from  the  gangway, 
pulled  forward  to  the  bows,  where  some  of  the  crew  tried  to 
climb  on  board.  A  company  of  boarders  was  immediately 
called  away,  and  the  bristling  array  of  pikes  and  cutlasses  over 
the  vessel's  side  caused  the  Japanese  to  retreat  in  great  haste. 
Thenceforth,  all  the  Japanese  boats  gave  us  a  wide  berth,  and 
during  the  whole  of  our  stay,  none  approached  us  except  those 
containing  the  officials  who  were  concerned  in  the  negotiations. 
I  may  here  remark  that  our  presence  did  not  seem  to  disturb^ 
in  the  least,  the  coasting  trade  which  finds  its  focus  in  Yedo. 
Without  counting  the  hundreds  of  small  boats  and  fishing 
smacks,  between  sixty  and  seventy  large  junks  daily  passed  up 
and  down  the  bay,  on  their  way  to  and  from  Yedo.  The  Japa 
nese  boatmen  were  tall,  handsomely  formed  men,  with  vigorouj 
9nd  symmetrical  bodies,  and  a  hardy,  manly  expression  of  coun 


416  INDIA     CHINA,   AHD   JAPAN. 

tenance.  As  the  air  grew  fresher  towards  evening,  they  put  on 
a  sort  of  loose  gown,  with  wide,  hanging  sleeves.  As  the  cre^ 
of  each  boat  were  all  attired  alike,  the  dress  appeared  to  be  a 
uniform,  denoting  that  they  were  in  Government  service.  The 
most  of  them  had  blue  gowns,  with  white  stripes  on  the  sleeves, 
meeting  on  the  shoulder,  so  as  to  form  a  triangular  junction, 
and  a  crest,  or  coat-of-arms,  upon  the  back.  Others  had  gowns 
of  red  and  white  stripes,  with  a  black  lozenge  upon  the  back 
Some  wore  upon  their  heads  a  cap  made  of  bamboo  splints, 
resembling  a  broad,  shallow  basin  inverted,  but  the  greater  part 
had  their  heads  bare,  the  top  and  crown  shaved,  and  the  hair 
from  the  back  and  sides  brought  up  and  fastened  in  a  small 
knot,  through  which  a  short  metal  pin  was  thrust.  The  officers 
wore  light  and  beautifully  lacquered  hats  to  protect  them  from 
the  sun,  with  a  gilded  coat-of-arms  upon  the  front  part.  In 
most  of  the  boats  I  noticed  a  tall  spear,  with  a  lacquered  sheath 
for  the  head,  resembling  a  number  or  character,  and  apparently 
referring  to  the  rank  of  the  officer  on  board. 

After  dark,  watch-fires  began  to  blaze  along  the  shore,  both 
from  the  beach  and  from  the  summits  of  the  hills,  chiefly  on  the 
western  side  of  the  bay.  At  the  same  time  we  heard,  at  regular 
intervals,  the  sound  of  a  deep-toned  bell.  It  had  a  very  sweet 
rich  tone,  and  from  the  distinctness  with  which  its  long  rever- 
berations reached  us,  must  have  been  of  large  size.  A  double 
night-watch  was  established  during  our  stay,  and  no  officers 
except  the  Purser  and  Surgeons  were  exempt  from  serving. 
But  the  nights  were  quiet  and  peaceful,  and  it  never  fell  to  my 
let  to  report  a  suspicious  appearance  of  any  kind. 

The  next  morning,  Yezaimon,  the  Governor  of  Uraga  and 
the  highest  authority  on  shore,  came  off,  attended  by  twa 


TTNEXPECTED    CONCESSIOKte.  41*} 

interpreters,  who  gave  their  names  as  Tatsonoske  aud  Tokosh- 
iuro.  He  was  received  by  Commanders  Buchanan  and  Adams, 
and  Lieut.  Contee.  He  was  a  noble  of  the  second  rank  •  his 
robe  was  of  the  richest  silken  tissue,  embroidered  with  ^old 
and  silver  in  a  pattern  resembling  peacock  feathers.  The  object 
of  his  coming,  I  believe,  was  to  declare  his  inability  to  act,  not 
having  the.  requisite  authority  without  instructions  from  Yedo. 
At  any  rate,  it  was  understood  that  an  express  would  be  sent 
to  the  Capital  immediately,  and  the  Commodore  gave  him  until 
Tuesday  noon  to  have  the  answer  ready.  Sunday  passed  over 
without  any  visit,  but  on  Monday  there  was  an  informal  one. 
From  Tuesday  until  Wednesday  noon,  Yezaimon  came  ofl 
three  times,  remaining  from  two  to  three  hours  each  time. 
The  result  of  all  these  conferences  was,  that  the  Emperor  had 
specially  appointed  one  of  the  Chief  Counsellors  of  the  Empiro 
to  proceed  to  Uraga,  and  receive  from  Commodore  Perry  the 
letter  of  the  President  of  the  United  States,  which  the  Com- 
modore  was  allowed  to  land  and  deliver  on  shore.  This  prompt 
and  unlooked-for  concession  astonished  us  all,  and  I  am  con 
vinced  it  was  owing  entirely  to  the  decided  stand  the  Commo- 
dore took  during  the  early  negotiations.  "We  had  obtained  in 
four  days,  without  subjecting  ourselves  to  a  single  observance 
of  Japanese  law,  what  the  Russian  embassy  under  Resanofll 
failed  to  accomplish  in  six  months,  after  a  degrading  subser 
vience  to  ridiculous  demands.  From  what  I  know  of  the  nego- 
ciations,  I  must  say  that  they  were  admirably  conducted. 
The  Japanese  officials  were  treated  in  such  a  polite  and 
friendly  manner  as  to  win  their  good  will,  while  not  a  single 
point  to  which  we  attached  any  importance,  was  yielded 
There  was  a  mixture  of  firmness,  dignity  and  fearlessness  on 
18* 


418  INDIA)   CHm/L,   AKD    TAP  AN. 

3ur  side,  against  which  their  artful  and  dissim  ilating  policj 
was  powerless.  To  this,  and  to  our  material  strength,  I  at- 
tribute the  fact  of  our  reception  having  been  so  different  from 
that  of  other  embassies,  as  almost  to  make  us  doubt  the  truth 
of  the  accounts  we  had  read. 

From  our  anchorage  off  Uraga,  we  enjoyed  a  charming 
panorama  of  the  bay.  It  far  surpassed  my  preconceived  ideas 
of  Japanese  scenery.  The  western  shore  is  bold  and  steep, 
runnitg  here  and  there  into  lofty  bluffs  of  light-gray  rock,  but 
the  greatei*  part  of  it  is  covered  with  turf,  copsewood  and  scat- 
tered groves  of  trees,  all  of  the  brightest  and  freshest  green. 
From  Uraga  to  another  and  shallower  bight,  which  makes  in 
nearly  two  miles  below,  the  shore  is  less  abrupt,  and  shows 
more  signs  of  cultivation.  The  hills  behind,  though  not  above 
500  feet  in  height,  are  beautifully  undulating  iu  their  outlines, 
and  dotted  with  groves  of  pine  and  other  trees.  From  Urdga 
to  the  end  of  the  promontory — a  distance  of  a  mile  and  a 
quarter — there  is  an  almost  unbroken  line  of  villages.  The 
house?  are  of  wood,  with  sharp  roofs,  some  pointed  in  the 
Chinese  style,  some  square  and  pyramidal.  A  few  were  painted 
white,  but  the  greater  number  were  unpainted  and  weather- 
beaten.  At  least  a  hundred  small  craft,  with  a  number  of 
junks,  lay  in  the  harbor  of  Uraga,  and  thence  to  the  headland 
there  were  two  hundred  boats,  lying  close  in-shore. 

I  examined  the  fortifications  frequently  and  carefully, 
through  a  glass,  and  found  that  their  strength  had  leen  greatly 
exaggerated.  Two  of  them  appeared  to  have  been  recently 
made,  and  on  a  bluff,  half  enclosing  Ihe  little  harbor  of  Uraga 
on  the  east,  there  was  another,  still  in  the  course  of  construc- 
tion.    Between  this  and  the  headland  thfire  were  three  bat 


CANVAS    FORTIFICATIONS.  41^ 

fceries,  and  at  the  extremity  one,  making  five  in  all.  Tlie  em 
brasures  were  so  large,  that  from  our  position  a  good  marks- 
man might  in  a  short  time  have  dislodged  every  one  of  their 
gmis.  The  chief  post  was  the  central  battery,  near  which  waa 
a  village,  and  several  buildings  of  large  size,  apparently  arsenals 
or  barracks. 

Every  morning  and  evening,  when  the  air  was  clear,  we 
had  a  distinct  view  of  the  famous  volcanic  peak  of  Fusi- Yam- 
ma,  rising  in  the  western  heaven,  high  above  the  hills,  and 
sixty  miles  away.  In  the  evenings  its  solitary  cone,  of  a  pale 
violet  hue,  was  defined  with  great  distinctness  against  the'  rosy 
flush  of  sunset,  but  in  the  morning,  when  the  light  fell  full 
upon  it,  we  could  see  the  scars  of  old  eruptions,  and  the  cold 
ravines  of  snow  on  its  northern  side.  It  is  the  highest  moun- 
tain in  Japan,  and  estimated  to  be  twelve  or  thirteen  thousand 
feet  above  the  sea-level. 

On  the  morning  after  our  arrival,  the  Japanese  put  up  a 
false  battery  of  black  canvas,  about  a  hundred  yards  in  length, 
on  the  shore  south  of  Urdga.  There  was  no  appearance  of 
guns,  but  with  a  glass  I  saw  two  or  three  companies  of  soldiers 
in  scarlet  uniform,  riding  through  the  groves  in  the  rear.  Id 
most  of  the  batteries  they  also  erected  canvas  screens  behind 
the  embrasures — with  what  object  it  was  difficult  to  conceive. 
These  diversions  they  repeated  so  often  during  our  stay,  that 
at  last  we  ceased  to  regard  them  ;  but  it  was  amusing  to  heaf 
gome  of  our  old  quarter-masters  now  and  then  gravely  report 
to  Captain  Buchanan :  "  Another  dungaree  fort  thrown  up, 
air!" 

On  Saturday  morning  a  surveying  expedition,  consisting 
if  one  boat  from  each  ship,  under  the  charge  of  Lieut.  Bent 


420  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND   JAPAN. 

of  the  Missisippi,  was  sent  for  the  purpose  of  sounding  up  tho 
bay.  The  other  officers  were  Lieut.  Guest,  of  the  Susquehauna, 
Lieut.  Balch,  of  the  Plymouth,  and  Mr.  Madigan,  Master  of 
the  Saratoga.  The  boats  carried,  in  addition  to  the  usual  en 
sign,  a  white  flag  at  the  bow,  and  were  fully  manned  with 
irmed  seamen.  They  ran  up  the  bay  to  a  distance  of  about 
four  miles,  and  found  every  where  from  thirty  to  forty- three 
fathoms  of  water.  The  recall  was  then  hoisted,  and  a  signal 
gun  fired,  to  bring  them  back.  In  the  afternoon  they  sounded 
around  the  bight  of  Uraga,  keeping  about  a  cable's  length  from 
the  shore.  They  found  five  fathoms  of  water  at  this  distance, 
though  nearer  to  the  beach  there  were  occasional  reefs.  Mr. 
Heine,  the  artist,  obtained  a  panoramic  sketch  of  the  shore, 
with  the  batteries,  villages,  and  other  objects  in  detail.  On 
approaching  the  forts,  the  soldiers  at  first  came  out,  armed  with 
matchlocks,  but  as  the  boats  advanced  nearer,  they  retired 
within  the  walls.  The  forts  were  all  of  very  rude  and  imperfect 
construction,  and  all  together  only  mounted  fourteen  guns, 
none  of  which  were  larger  than  nine-pounders.  The  whole 
number  of  soldiers  seen  was  about  four  hundred,  a  considerable 
portion  of  whom  were  armed  with  spears.  Their  caps  and 
shields  were  lacquered,  and  glittered  in  the  sun  like  polished 
armor.  The  carriages  of  the  guns  were  also  lacquered.  The 
embrasures  were  so  wide  that  the  guns  were  wholly  unpro- 
tected, while  they  were  so  stationed  that  the  forts  could  be 
stormed  from  either  side,  with  very  little  risk  to  the  assaulting 
party.  The  parapets  were  of  earth,  and  about  twelve  feet  iu 
thickness,  and  the  barracks  in  the  rear  were  of  wood.  Indeed, 
the  whole  amount  of  the  Japanese  defences  appeared  laughable 
«ffcer  all  the  extravagant  stories  we  Kad  heard 


EXPLORING    THE    BAY.  ^O;!^ 

Mr  MaJigan  approached,  at  one  place,  to  within  a  hundred 
yards  oi  the  shore.  Ihree  official  personages  were  standing 
upon  a  bank  of  earth,  when  some  one  in  the  boat  raised  a  spy- 
glass to  get  a  nearer  view  of  them.  No  sooner  did  they  be 
hold  the  glittering  tube  pointed  at  them  than  they  scrambled 
down  as  quickly  as  possible,  and  concealed  themselves.  There 
were  three  boat-loads  of  soldiers  near  the  shore,  who  made  eio-ns 
to  him  to  keep  off,  but  he  answered  them  by  pointing  out  the 
way  he  intended  to  go.  Thereupon  they  put  off,  and  bore  down 
upon  him  so  rapidly,  that  he  at  first  thought  they  intended  to 
run  into  him,  and  ordered  his  men  to  trail  their  oars  and  put 
caps  on  their  carbines.  The  boats  stopped  at  once,  and  made 
no  attempt  to  interfere  with  the  cutter's  course. 

On  Monday  morning  the  same  surveying  party  was  agaiL 
dispatched  up  the  bay,  followed  by  the  Mississippi,  which  was 
designed  to  protect  them,  and  tow  them  back  in  the  evening. 
Lieut.  Bent's  boat  was  in  advance,  and  as  he  passed  the  pro- 
montory of  Uraga,  three  Japanese  boats  put  out  to  meet  him. 
The  officers  in  them  made  signs  to  return,  but  he  kept  steadily 
on  his  way.  We  watched  the  progress  of  our  boats  with 
glasses,  but  at  the  distance  of  four  miles,  they,  with  the  Mis- 
sissippi, passed  out  of  sight  behind  the  point. 

Several  Government  boats,  fully  manned,  were  seen  from 
lime  to  time,  pulling  across  the  bay,  in  the  direction  of  the 
Burveyiug  fleet,  but  no  prominent  movement  occurred  until 
noon.  At  this  time  the  distant  shores  were  so  lifted  by  the 
effect  of  a  mirage,  that  we  saw  land  extending  entirely  around 
the  head  of  the  bay,  where  previously  none  had  been  visible, 
The  eastern  shore  was  remarkably  distinct,  and  for  the  first 
time  we  observed  a  low,  sandy  promontory  stretching  out  into 


422  INDIA,     CHINA,     AND     JAPAN. 

the  bay,  five  or  six  miles  to  the  north  of  us.  Near  the  middle 
of  it  rose  a  low  mound,  on  which,  by  the  aid  of  a  glass,  we 
could  discern  a  number  of  soldiers,  clustered  around  some 
white  objects,  which  I  took  to  be  tents.  In  a  short  time 
several  hundred  men  were  marched  down  to  the  beach,  where 
they  formed  a  line  nearly  half  a  mile  in  length.  At  least  fifty 
banners,  of  various  colors  and  devices,  were  planted  along  the 
line.  \  number  of  Government  boats,  similar  to  those  which 
had  visited  us,  were  drawn  up  on  the  beach.  The  greater  part 
of  the  soldiers  embarked  in  the  boats,  which  put  off,  one  after 
another,  and  made  directly  across  the  bay.  We  saw  nothing 
more  until  4  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  when  the  Mississippi 
made  her  appearance,  at  a  distance  of  ten  miles.  The  head- 
land of  Uraga  was  crowded  with  soldiers,  who  came  out  to  see 
her  pass. 

From  some  of  the  officers  who  were  of  the  party,  I  learned 
the  following  particulars :  In  ascending  the  bay,  they  were 
constantly  met  by  Government  boats,  the  officers  in  which 
urged  them,  by  signs,  to  return.  They  kept  on  their  course, 
however,  until  Mr.  Bent  endeavored  to  proceed  to  the  V  'd  of 
a  deep  bay  on  the  western  coast.  Here  he  was  met  by  forty- 
five  Japanese  boats,  which  placed  themselves  in  front  of  him, 
to  intercept  his  progress.  He  ordered  his  men  to  lay  on  their 
oars  and  fix  bayonets  to  their  muskets,  but  this  produced  no 
impression.  As  the  Mississippi  was  more  than  two  miles 
astern,  he  dispatched  one  of  the  boats  to  summon  her,  and  then, 
ordering  half  his  men  to  pull  directly  towards  the  Ja-panese 
boats,  while  the  other  half  held  their  arms  in  readiness,  he 
steadily  approached  their  line.  They  made  signs  and  threaten' 
ing  gestures,  to  which   he  paid  no  heed,  and  ag  this  cutter  a) 


perry'b  bat.  423 

most  touched  their  oars,  they  gave  way,  overawed  by  what 
must  have  seemed  to  them  an  insane  determination.  The  ap- 
proach of  the  Mississippi  soon  dispersed  the  whole  of  them. 

The  boats  every  where  obtained  deep  soundings,  with  a 
bottom  of  soft  mud.  The  furthest  point  reached  was  ten  or 
twelve  miles  from  our  anchorage.  The  shores  were  bold  and 
steep,  with  mountains  in  the  background,  and  the  bay  (to 
which  Lieut.  Bent  gave  the  name  of  Perry's  Bay)  offered  a 
secure  and  commodious  anchorage.  On  her  return j  the  Missis* 
aippi  came  down  the  centre  of  the  bay,  finding  every  whrw 
abundance  of  water. 


OH  APTEB    XXXiV  . 

THE     FIBST     LANDING     IN     JAPAN 

Thj  Day  of  Landing— Preparatloiis  on  Shore — ^The  Bight  of  Gorl-hama— Japanese 
Military  Display— Arrival  of  the  Governors — Their  OfBcial  Dresses— Precautlona 
on  Board— The  Procession  of  Boats— An  Ii.ppiring  Scene — The  Landing— NuinberH 
of  the  Escort — The  Japanese  Troops — The  Commodore's  Landing — March  to  the 
House  of  Eeception— Japanese  Body-Goard — The  Hall  of  Audience — Two  Japanese 
Prlncee — Delivery  of  the  President's  Letter — An  Official  Conversation— Return  to 
the  Sqnadron. 

It  was  finally  arranged  with  the  Japanese  officials,  that  the 
President's  letter  should  be  delivered  on  Thursday  morning, 
July  14,  at  the  town  of  Gori-hama,  two  miles  south  of  Uraga. 
The  morning  was  heavy  and  dark  before  sunrise,  but  soon 
afterwards  cleared  off  brilliantly.  As  soon  as  the  shore  could 
be  distinguished,  it  was  seen  that  the  principal  battery  on  the 
promontory  of  Urdga  had  been  greaty  amplified  and  adorned 
by  screens  of  cotton  canvas,  in  honor  of  the  occasion.  On  the 
hill  above,  among  the  trees,  there  were  two  small  forts,  orTather 
paTilions,  of  the  same  material.  The  canvas  was  stretched 
along  a  row  of  stakes  so  as  to  form  a  species  of  panelling,  on 
which  the  Imperial  coat-of-arms  was  painted,  alternating  with 
other  devices.  Behind  the  canvas  we  could  see  that  numeroua 
companies  of  soldiers  were  drawn  up  in  different  costume  froio 


'APANE8E    MILITARY    DISPLAY.  425 

that  which  they  usually  wore.  Their  arms  were  bare,  aud  the 
body  covered  with  a  short  tunic  of  a  dark-brown,  blue  or  pur- 
ple color,  bound  with  a  girdle  at  the  waist. 

About  eight  o'clock  the  anchors  were  lifted,  and  the 
Sasquehanna  and  Mississippi  moved  slowly  down  the  Bay, 
leaving  the  Plymouth  and  Saratoga.  "We  soon  saw  two  boats 
bearing  the  Government  flag  pulling  abreast  of  us,  but  furthei 
in  shore,  and  accompanied  by  four  other  boats  with  red  ban- 
ners, probably  containing  a  military  escort.  As  the  bight 
opened  behind  the  promontory,  we  saw  a  long  line  of  canvaS 
walls,  covered  with  the  Imperial  crest,  stretching  quite  around 
the  head  of  the  bight.  In  front  were  files  of  soldiers,  standing 
motionless  on  the  sandy  beach.  A  multitude  of  banners  of  va- 
rious brilliant  colors  gleamed  in  the  sun.  Near  the  centre  of 
the  crescent  formed  by  the  troops,  were  planted  nine  tall 
standards — four  on  one  side  and  five  on  the  other — from  which 
broad  scarlet  pennons  hung  to  the  ground.  In  the  rear  of 
these  three  new  pyramidal  roofs  showed  that  a  house  had 
been  prepared  expressly  for  the  Commodore's  reception.  On 
the  right,  upwards  of  fifty  or  sixty  boats  were  drawn  up  in  a 
line  parallel  to  the  beach,  each  having  a  red  flag  at  its  stern. 
From  the  head  of  the  bight  a  narrow  valley  extended  inland 
between  luxuriantly  wooded  hills.  On  the  left  side  was  a  pic- 
taiesque  little  town,  the  name  of  which  the  Japanese  informed 
as,  was  Grori-hama,  The  place  was  undoubtedly  chosen,  both 
on  account  of  its  remoteness  from^  Uraga,  which  is  a  port  of 
customs,  and  the  facility  which  it  afforded  to  the  Japanese  for 
the  exhibition  of  a  large  military  force — a  measure  dictated 
alike  by  their  native  caution,  and  the  love  of  display  for  whioli 
they  are  noted. 


426  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

The  anchor  was  no  sooner  down,  than  the  two  Gk)vernment 
Doats  sculled  alongside,  and  Tezaimon,  with  the  Inte^pnite^s^ 
Tatsonoske  and  Tokoshiuro,  came  on  board.  The  second  boat 
contained  the  Deputy  Governor,  Saboroske,  and  an  attendant  ofl&- 
cer.  They  were  accommodated  with  seats  on  the  quarter-deck 
until  all  our  preparations  for  landing  were  completed.  They 
were  dressed,  as  they  had  hinted  the  day  previous,  in  official 
garments  of  rich  silk  brocade,  bordered  with  velvet.  The 
gowns  differed  little  in  form  from  those  they  ordinarily  wore, 
but  were  elaborately  embroidered,  and  displayed  a  greater  va- 
riety of  gay  colors  than  taste  in  their  disposal.  Saboroske  had 
a  pair  of  short  and  very  wide  pantaloons,  resembling  a  petti- 
coat with  a  seam  up  the  middle,  below  which  appeared  his  bare 
legs,  and  black  woollen  socks,  with  an  effect  rather  comical 
than  otherwise.  His  shoulders  contained  lines  of  ornament  in 
gold  thread.  All  the  officers  wore  their  crest,  or  coat-of-arms, 
embroidered  upon  the  back,  sleeves  and  breasts  of  their  gar- 
ments. 

The  boats  of  the  Mississippi,  Plymouth  and  Saratoga,  were 
alongside  in  less  than  half  an  hour  after  our  anchor  dropped, 
and  preparations  were  made  for  leaving  at  once.  Both  steam- 
ers lay  with  their  broadsides  to  the  shore,  and  the  decks  were 
cleared,  the  guns  primed  and  pointed,  ready  for  action,  in  case 
of  treachery.  Commanders  Kelly  and  Lee  remained  on  board 
their  respective  ships,  in  order  to  act  in  case  of  necessity. 
The  morning  was  very  bright  and  clear,  and  the  fifteen  laun- 
ches and  cutters,  containing  the  officers,  seamen,  marines,  and 
bandsmen,  presented  a  brilliant  appearance,  as  they  clustered 
around  our  starboard  gangway.  Commander  Buchanan  took 
the  lead,  in  his  barge,  with  one  of  the  Japanese  Government 


THE   LANDING.  421 

boats  on  each  side  Merrily  as  the  oars  of  our  men  dipped  the 
waves,  it  required  their  utmost  to  keep  pace  with  the  athletio 
scullers  of  Japan.  The  other  American  boats  followed  nearly 
in  line,  and  the  van  of  the  procession  was  more  than  half-way 
to  the  sliore  when  the  guns  of  the  Susquehanna  announced  the 
Commodore's  departure.  The  gleam  of  arms,  the  picturesque 
mingliug  of  blue  and  white,  in  the  uniforms,  and  the  sparkling 
of  the  waves  under  the  steady  strokes  of  the  oarsmen,  com- 
bined to  form  a  splendid  picture,  set  oflf  as  it  was  by  the  back- 
ground of  rich  green  hills,  and  the  long  line  of  soldiery  and 
banners  on  the  beach.  All  were  excited  by  the  occasion,  and 
the  men  seemed  to  be  as  much  elated  in  spirits  as  those  who 
had  a  more  prominent  part  in  the  proceedings.  We  all  felt, 
that  as  being  the  first  instance  since  the  expulsion  of  the  Por- 
tuguese from  Japan,  when  a  foreign  Ambassador  had  been 
officially  received  on  Japanese  soil,  it  was  a  memorable  event 
in  the  history  of  both  countries,  and  that,  if  not  an  augury  of 
the  future  and  complete  success  of  the  Expedition,  it  was  at 
leaat  a  commencement  more  auspicious  than  we  had  ventured 
to  anticipate. 

An  impromptu  jetty  composed  of  bags  of  sand,  had  been 
thrown  up  for  the  occasion  near  the  centre  of  the  crescent- 
shaped  beach  at  the  head  of  the  bight.  Capt.  Buchanan,  who 
had  command  of  the  party,  was  the  first  to  leap  ashore.  The 
remaining  boats  crowded  rapidly  in  beside  the  jetty,  landed  as 
many  of  their  crews  as  had  been  detailed  for  the  escort  on 
ihore,  and  then  pulled  off  about  fifty  yards.  The  seamen  and 
marines  were  formed  into  a  line  as  soon  as  they  were  landed, 
and  presented  a  compact  and  imposing  file  along  the  beach 
The  officers  commanding  detachments  were  Commanders  Bu 


428  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

chanau  and  "Walker,  and  Lieuts.  Gillis  and  Taylor.  The 
bodies  of  seamen  were  in  immediate  charge  of  Lieut.  Duer,  of 
the  Susquehanna ;  Lieut.  Morris,  of  the  Mississippi ;  Lieut.  Mat- 
thews of  the  Plymouth,  and  Passed  Midshipman  Scott,  of  the 
Saratoga.  Including  the  other  officers,  there  were  upwards  of 
320  persons  landed,  while  the  Japanese  troops  amounted,  as  they 
themselves  informed  us,  to  five  thousand.  We  had  112  marines, 
about  120  seamen,  50  officers,  and  30  or  40  musicians.  About 
a  hundred  yards  from  the  beach  stood  the  foremost  files  of  the 
Japanese,  in  somewhat  loose  and  straggling  order.  Their  front 
occupied  the  whole  beach,  their  right  flank  resting  on  the  vil- 
Isicre  of  Gori-hama,  and  their  left  against  a  steep  hill  which 
bounded  the  bight  on  the  northern  side.  The  greater  part 
were  stationed  behind  the  canvas  screens,  and  from  the  num- 
bers, crowded  together  in  the  rear,  some  of  the  officers  estima- 
ted their  force  at  nearer  ten  than  five  thousand  men.  Those 
in  the  front  rank  were  armed  with  swords,  spears  and  match- 
locks, and  their  uniform  differed  little  from  the  usual  Japanese 
costume.  There  were  a  number  of  horses,  of  a  breed  larger 
and  much  superior  to  the  Chinese,  and  in  the  background  we 
saw  a  body  of  cavalry.  On  the  slope  of  the  hill  near  the  vil- 
lage, a  great  number  of  natives,  many  of  whom  were  women, 
had  collected,  out  of  curiosity  to  witness  the  event. 

A  salute  was  fired  from  the  Susquehamia,  as  the  Commo- 
dore  left,  accompanied  by  his  staff,  Commander  Adams,  and 
Lieut  Contee,  and  the  men  had  scarcely  been  formed  into  line 
before  his  barge  approached  the  shore.  The  officers  compos- 
ing the  Commodore's  escort  formed  a  double  line  from  the 
jetty,  and  as  he  passed  between  them  fell  into  proper  order  be- 
hind  him.     He  was   received  with  the  customary  honors,  and 


JAPANESE   BODY-GUARD.  429 

the  procession  immediately  started  for  the  place  of  reception, 
A  stalwart  boatswain's  mate  was  selected  to  bear  the  broad 
pennant  of  the  Commodore,  supported  by  two  very  tall  and 
powerful  negro  seamen,  completely  armed.  Behind  these  fol 
lowed  two  sailor  boys,  bearing  the  letter  of  the  President  and 
the  Commodore's  letter  of  credence,  in  their  sumptuous  boxes, 
wrapped  in  scarlet  cloth.  Then  came  the  Commodore  himself, 
with  his  staff  and  escort  of  officers.  The  marine  force,  a  fine, 
athletic  body  of  men,  commanded  by  Maj.  Zeilin,  with  a  de- 
tachment from  the  Mississippi,  under  Capt.  Slack,  led  the  way, 
and  the  corps  of  seamen  from  all  the  ships  brought  up  the 
rear. 

The  house  of  reception  was  directly  in  front  of  the  landing, 
but  an  intervening  screen  rendered  a  slight  detour  necessary 
in  order  to  reach  the  entrance;  and  Maj.  Zeilin  made  the  most 
of  this  circumstance,  in  order  to  display  our  forces  to  the 
Japanese.  There  certainly  was  a  marked  contrast  between 
the  regular,  compact  files  of  our  njen,  and  their  vigorous,  mus- 
cular figures,  and  the  straggling 'ranks  of  the  mild,  effeminate- 
featured  Japanese.  In  front  of  the  house  were  two  old  brass 
four-pounders,  apparently  of  Spanish  manufacture,  and  on  each 
side  stood  a  company  of  soldiers,  who  belonged  either  to  the 
Imperial  forces,  or  to  the  body-guard  of  the  Prince.  Those  on 
the  left  wore  a  uniform  somewhat  resembling  the  modem 
Egyptian  dress.  It  was  of  a  dark  gray  color,  having  full 
trowsers,  gathered  below  the  knees,  a  broad  sash  around  the 
waist,  and  a  white  cloth,  similar  to  a  turban,  bound  upon  the 
head.  They  were  armed  with  the  old  Tower  muskets,  which 
are  to  be  found  in  every  part  of  the  world,  with  flint  locks  and 
bayonets      Those  on  the  right  wore  a   different  uniform,  ex 


430  INDIA*   CHIKA,   AND   JAPAN. 

hibiting  a  mixture  of  dull  brown  and   yellow  in  its  colors,  and 
carried  matchlocks  of  an  antique  fashion. 

Yezaimon  and  the  Interpreters  preceded  us,  in  order  to  sho^ 
the  way.  The  distance  from  the  jetty  to  the  door  of  the  build- 
ing was  so  short,  that  little  opportunity  was  given  me  foi 
noticing  minutely  the  appearance  of  the  Japanese,  or  the  order 
of  their  array.  The  building  into  which  the  Commodore  and 
Buite  were  ushered  was  small,  and  appeared  to  have  been  erected 
in  haste.  The  timbers  were  of  pine  wood,  and  numbered,  as 
if  they  had  been  brought  from  some  other  place.  The  first 
apartment,  which  was  about  forty  feet  square,  was  of  canvas 
with  an  awning  of  the  same,  of  a  white  ground,  with  the  Im 
perial  arms  emblazoned  on  it  in  places.  The  floor  was  covered 
with  white  cotton  cloth,  with  a  pathway  of  red  felt,  or  some 
similar  substance,  leading  across  the  room  to  a  raised  inner 
apartment,  which  was  wholly  carpeted  with  it.  This  apartment, 
the  front  of  which  was  entirely  open,  so  that  it  corresponded 
precisely  to  the  diwan  in  Turkish  houses,  was  hung  with  fine 
cloth,  containing  the  Imperial  arms,  in  white,  on  a  ground  of 
violet.  On  the  right  hand  was  a  row  of  arm-chairs,  sufficient 
in  number  for  the  Commodore  and  his  stafi",  while  on  the  op- 
posite side  sat  the  Prince  who  had  been  appointed  to  receive 
the  President's  letter,  with  another  official  of  similar  rank. 
Their  names  were  given  by  the  Interpreter  as  "  Toda  Idzu-no- 
Kami,"  Toda,  Prince  of  Idzu,  and  "  Ido  Iwami-no-Kami,"  Ido, 
Prince  of  Iwami.  The  Prince  of  Idzu  was  a  man  of  about  fifty 
with  mild,  regular  features,  an  ample  brow,  and  an  intelligent, 
reflective  expression.  He  was  dressed  with  great  richness, 
ID  heavy  robes  of  silken  tissue,  wrought  into  elaborate  orna* 
naents  with  gold  and  silver  thread.     The  Prince  of  Iwami  wac 


AN    OFFICIAL    CONVBRSATIOH.  431 

At  least  fifteen  years  older,  and  dressed  with  nearly  ec^ua, 
Bpleudor.  His  face  was  wrinkled  with  age,  and  exhibited 
neither  the  intelligence  nor  the  benignity  of  his  associate. 
They  b^th  rose  and  bowed  gravely  as  the  Commodore  entered, 
but  immediately  resumed  their  seats,  and  remained  as  silent 
and  passive  as  statues  during  the  interview. 

At  the  head  of  the  room  was  a  large  scarlet-lacquered  box, 
with  brazen  feet,  beside  which  Yezaimon  and  the  Interpreter, 
Tatsonoske,  knelt.  The  latter  then  asked  whether  the  letters 
were  ready  to  be  delivered,  stating  that  the  Prince  was  ready 
to  receive  them.  The  boxes  were  brought  in,  opened,  so  that 
the  writing  and  the  heavy  golden  seals  were  displayed,  and 
placed  upon  the  scarlet  chest.  The  Prince  of  Iwami  theu 
handed  to  the  Interpreter,  who  gave  it  to  the  Commodore, 
an  official  receipt,  in  Japanese,  and  at  the  same  time  the  Inter- 
preter added  a  Dutch  translation.  The  Commodore  remarked 
that  he  would  sail  in  a  few  days  for  Loo-Choo  and  Canton,  and 
if  the  Japanese  Government  wished  to  send  any  dispatches  to 
those  places  he  would  be  happy  to  take  them.  Without  ma- 
king any  direct  reply,  the  Interpreter  asked :  "  When  will 
you  come  again  ?  "  The  Commodore  answered,  "  As  I  sup- 
pose it  will  take  some  time  to  deliberate  upon  the  letter  of  tho 
President,  I  shall  not  wait  now,  but  will  return  in  a  few 
months  to  receive  the  answer."  He  also  spoke  of  the  revolution 
in  China,  and  the  Interpreter  asked  the  cause  of  it,  withou^ 
translating  the  communication  to  the  Prince.  He  then  in 
quired  when  the  ships  would  return  again,  to  which  the  Com 
modore  replied  that  they  would  probably  be  there  in  April  or 
May.  "All  four  of  them?  "he  asked.  "All  of  them,' 
answered  the  Commodore,  "  and  probably  more.     This  is  but  a 


*32  INDIA,    CHINA,    ANT    JAPAN. 

portion  of  the  squadron.''  No  further  conversation  took  place 
The  letters  having  been  formally  delivered  and  received,  the 
Commodore  took  his  leave,  while  the  two  Princes,  who  had 
fulfilled  to  the  letter  their  instructions  not  to  speak,  rose  and 
remained  standing  until  he  had  retired  from  their  presence. 

The  return  to  the  boats  was  made  in  the  same  order,  the 
bands  playing  "  Hail  Columbia  "  and  "  Yankee  Doodle,"  with 
more  spirit  than  ever  before,  and  few  of  those  present,  I  ven- 
ture to  say,  ever  heard  our  national  airs  with  more  pride  and 
pleasure.  Yezaimon,  Saboroske,  and  the  two  Interpreters  at- 
tended the  Commodore  to  the  boat,  and  as  the  embarkation  of 
the  different  boats'  crews  occupied  some  time,  on  account  of 
the  smallness  of  the  jetty,  several  of  the  Japanese  soldiers 
profited  by  the  delay  to  come  down  and  examine  us  more  close- 
ly. Many  of  our  men  strayed  along  the  beach,  picking  up 
shells  and  pebbles  as  mementoes  of  the  visit.  In  Jess  than 
twenty  minutes,  however,  all  were  embarked,  and  we  returned 
to  the  ships,  accompanied  by  the  two  Japanese  boa* '3  yliich  Kad 
piloted  us  to  the  shore.  Before  twelve  o'clock  t'^e  ancliora 
were  lifted,  and  both  vessels  were  under  way  oa  a  **nu3«  Mp 
the  bay. 


CHAPTER    XXXV. 

THB     UPPEB     BAT     OP     TBDO. 

riki  Japanese  Officers  on  Board-Their  Manners-Their  Dislike  to  tlie  Cliinese-  WwU 
Swords— Their  Curiosity— Passing  up  the  Bay— Beauty  of  the  Scenery-"  lerry'i 
Bay  ''—Junks  bound  for  Yedo— Another  Visit— Further  Surveys— The  Natives- 
In  Rscursion  towards  Yedo— Exteot  and  Capacity  of  the  Upper  Bay— Change  oi 
Anchorage— The  Surveys  Proceed— Interchange  of  Presents— A  Dilemma— Final 
Satisfaction  —  Farewell  of  the  Japanese  Officials— Commodore  Perry's  Diplomacy- 
Departure  from  Japan— A  Multitude  of  Boats— Oosima— The  Islands  off  the  Bay- 
Discoveries— Formation  of  the  Group— We  Sail  for  Ohosima— A  Typhoon— Return 
to  Loo-Choo— The  Second  Visit  to  Japan. 

Yezaimon,  Saboroske,  and  the  Interpreters  accepted  an  invi- 
tation to  remain  on  board  until  we  reached  Uraga,  and  have 
their  boats  towed  at  our  stern.  This  gave  them  a  chance  of 
seeing  the  steam-engine  in  operation,  for  which  they  had  ex- 
pressed a  great  desire.  They  were  conducted  over  the  ship, 
and  saw  the  engine  from  all  points  of  view,  betraying;  a 
great  deal  of  curiosity  in  regard  to  its  operation,  but  no  fear. 
They  even  obtained  a  glimmering  idea  of  the  manner  in  which 
the  steam  acted,  to  set  the  enormous  mass  in  motion.  Tatson- 
oske  asked  if  it  was  not  the  same  machine  in  a  smaller  com 
19 


434  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

pass  which  we  used  on  railroads.  During  their  inspection  of 
the  ship  they  saw  many  things  which  must  have  been  new  and 
strange  to  them,  but  their  composure  and  self-possession  were 
Uot  in  the  least  disturbed.  Notwithstanding  the  decks  were 
crowded  with  ofl&cers  and  men,  whose  curiosity  to  see  them 
was  very  great,  they  were  to  all  appearance  unconscious  of  it, 
and  conducted  themselves  with  as  much  ease  and  propriety  aa 
I  ever  saw  among  the  most  refined  people.  The  complexion 
of  these  oflBcers  was  a  dark  olive,  but  not  too  dark  to  allow  a 
ruddy  tinge  on  the  lips  and  cheeks.  Their  eyes  were  somewhat 
larger,  and  not  so  obliquely  set  as  those  of  the  Chinese,  their 
foreheads  broader  and  more  open,  with  a  greater  facial  angle, 
and  the  expression  of  their  faces  denoted  a  lively  and  active 
mind.  Notwithstanding  that  spirit  of  cunning  and  secrecy 
which,  through  the  continual  teachings  of  their  government 
has  become  almost  a  second  nature  to  them,  their  faces  were 
agreeable  and  expressive.  Their  motions  and  gesturts  were 
characterized  by  an  unstudied  grace,  and  it  was  the  unanimoua 
opinion  of  all  our  officers  that  they  were  as  perfect  gentlemen 
as  could  be  found  in  any  part  of  the  world.  A  curious  illus- 
tration of  their  dislike  to  the  Chinese,  who  are  greatly  inferior 
to  them  in  propriety,  and  elegance  of  manner,  occurred  while 
they  were  on  board.  One  of  their  Interpreters,  noticing  some 
of  the  Chinese  deck-hands,  who  had  been  shipped  at  Shanghai, 
asked  with  a  face  expressive  of  great  contempt  and  disgust ' 
'^Is  it  possible  that  you  have  Chinese  among  your  men?"  Mr 
Portman  with  much  readiness,  but  not  entire  candor,  replied 
'*  These  men  are  ihe  servants  of  our  sailors,'''  and  thereby  re- 
instated us  in  the  good  opinion  of  the  Japanese. 

While  going   their  roimds   their  swords  were  left   in  tb« 


BEAUTY  OF   THE   SCEIfEBT.  48fi 

cabin,  and  most  of  the  officers  made  use  of  the  opportunity  to 
examine  them.  The  steel  was  of  admirable  quality,  and  kept 
in  good  condition,  although  the  shape  of  the  blade  was  rather 
unwieldy,  and  the  handle  was  without  a  guard.  The  scabbards 
were  made  of  shark-skin  very  handsomely  polished.  While  ic 
the  cabin,  a  globe  was  brought,  and  the  position  of  the  United 
States  shown  to  the  Japanese.  Tatsonoske  immediately  [)ointed 
out  Washington  and  New  York,  and  seemed  tolerably  familiar 
with  the  geography  of  our  country,  as  well  as  that  of  Europe, 
He  asked  wheiher  in  America  many  of  the  roads  were  not  cot 
through  the  mountains — evidently  referring  to  railroads.  Ye- 
zaimon  expressed  his  de-ire  to  examine  a  revolver,  several  of 
which  the  Japanese  had  noticed  in  the  otficers'  belts.  Com- 
mander Buchanan  theretore  fired  off  all  the  chambers  of  a 
genuine  "  Colt,"  from  the  qnarter-deck,  to  his  great  astonish- 
ment. Before  we  had  half  gratified  their  curiosity,  (which  the 
steam-whistle  raised  to  the  highest  pitch,)  we  were  off  Uraga, 
and  they  were  obliged  to  leave. 

As  we  moved  out  past  the  promontory  of  Uraga,  the  west- 
ern shore  opened  on  the  lett,  showing  a  broad  deep  bay,  era- 
bosomed  by  hills  covered  with  the  greenest  and  most  luxuriant 
foliage,  and  with  several  large  villages  at  their  base.  We  ap- 
proached within  three  miles  of  the  eastern  shore,  which  is  lof- 
tier and  wilder  than  the  western,  risuig  into  a  range  of  rugged 
mountains,  which  showed  no  signs  of  habitation  or  cultivation. 
But  the  lower  slopes,  which  undulated  gently  to  the  water, 
dharmed  me  by  the  rich  beauty  of  their  scattered  groves,  and  the 
green  terraces  and  lawns  into  which  centuries  of  patient  culti 
vation  has  formed  them.  Outside  of  England  there  is  nothing 
*o  green,  so  garden-like,  so  full  of  tranquil  beauty.    To  the  north 


436  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

the  hills  gradually  sank  away,  and  a  sandy  spur  three  3r  foui 
miles  in  length,  stretched  into  the  bay.  This  proved  to  be  the 
ground  whereon  we  had  seen  the  parade  of  Japanese  soldiers 
when  the  surveying  boats  ascended  the  bay.  The  two  mounds 
which  I  had  noticed  through  a  glass,  were  surmounted  with 
batteries  of  about  five  guns  each. 

Changing  our  course  we  made  over  toward  the  other  sidC; 
steering  for  a  bold  projecting  headland,  about  twelve  miles  be- 
yond that  of  Uraga.  In  the  intervening  bight,  to  which  Lieut. 
Bent,  as  the  first  surveyor,  gave  the  name  of  "Perry's  Bay,* 
there  are  two  lovely,  green  islands.  The  shores  of  the  bay  are 
as  tnickly  settled  and  as  assiduously  cultivated,  as  about  and 
below  Urdga.  During  the  voyage  up,  we  had  at  no  time  loss  than 
seven  fathoms,  and  generally  from  thirty  to  forty.  After  going 
a  short  distance,  beyond  the  point  reached  by  the  Mississippi, 
and  upwards  of  ten  miles  beyond  our  former  anchorage,  we 
dropped  anchor  a  mile  and  half  from  the  shore,  in  thirteen 
fathoms.  The  inward-bound  junks,  I  noticed,  made  for  a  point 
a  little  east  of  north  from  our  position.  According  to  the  Ja- 
panese charts,  and  the  best  descriptions  of  Yedo,  this  must  have 
been  the  direction  of  the  capital.  A  long,  low  headland  wag 
visible  with  the  glass,  with  (apparently)  another  bight  beyond 
it;  but  to  the  north-east,  for  a  segment  of  about  30°,  no  land 
could  be  seen.  This  also  corresponded  to  the  form  of  the 
bay,  as  given  in  Japanese  charts. 

Toward  evening  we  had  another  visit  from  Yezaimon,  who 
had  followed  us  from  Uraga,  with  the  intention  of  finding  out 
what  our  motives  were  in  proceeding  so  far  up  the  bay.  What- 
ever objections  he  may  have  made,  they  did  not  appear  to  be 
eflPectual,  for  as  long  as  we  remained,  the  survey  was  prosecuted 


AN    EXCURSION    TOWARDS    YEDO. 


43'; 


with  great  spirit  and  activity.  On  the  following  day  (Friday) 
Lieuts.  Cooper,  of  the  Susquehanna,  Clitz,  of  the  Mississippi, 
Goldsborough,  of  the  Saratoga,  and  Mathews,  of  the  Plymouth, 
sounded  around  the  islands  and  up  the  head  of  the  bight,  where 
ihey  found  a  deep  inlet,  into  which  flowed  a  beautiful  river. 
The  banks  were  studded  with  villages,  groves,  and  gardens, 
and  the  officers  were  enraptured  with  the  beauty  of  the 
scenery.  The  natives  of  both  sexes,  old  and  young,  came 
down  the  banks  and  saluted  them  in  a  friendly  manner,  bring- 
ing them  cool  spring-water  to  drink,  and  ripe  peaches  from 
their  gardens. 

On  Friday  afternoon,  the  Commodore  went  on  board  the 
Mississippi,  transferring  his  broad  pennant  to  that  ship  for  £ 
few  hours,  while  he  made  an  exploring  trip  still  further  up 
the  bay.  After  going  ten  miles  in  the  direction  of  Yedo,  the 
Mississippi  put  about  in  twenty  fathoms  water,  and  returned 
to  her  former  anchorage,  having  reached,  as  was  supposed,  a 
point  within  eight  miles  of  the  capital.  On  the  western  shore 
the  large  towns  of  Kanagawa  and  Kowazacki  were  seen; 
while  on  the  extremity  of  a  cape  in  front,  not  more  than  four 
miles  distant,  stood  a  tall  white  tower,  resembling  a  light- 
house. Three  or  four  miles  beyond  and  within  this  point  was 
a  crowd  of  shipping,  which  was  without  doubt  the  anchorage 
of  Sinagawa,  the  southern  suburb  of  Yedo.  There  was  every 
probability  that  the  Mississippi  could  have  advanced  to  a 
point  within  cannon-shot  of  the  city.  The  head  of  the  bay 
rounded  to  the  eastward,  and  in  that  direction  the  shores  be- 
came low  and  fiat,  and  finally  disappeared  below  the  horizon 
The  squadron  had,  therefore,  advanced  twenty  miles  farthei 
tip  the  Bay  of  Yedo  than  any  previous  vessel,  and  shown  con 


138  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

clusively  that,  instead  of  being  shallow  and  unnavigable,  at 
had  formerly  been  supposed,  it  contains  abundance  of  watei 
and  excellent  harbors.  It  is,  in  fact,  one  of  the  largest  and 
finest  bays  in  the  world,  and  second  to  none  in  the  varied  and 
delightful  scenery  of  its  shores. 

Early  on  Saturday  morning  we  moved  from  our  first  an- 
chorage to  another,  five  or  six  miles  further  down  the  bay,  and 
much  nearer  to  the  shore.  There  was  abundance  of  watei 
every  where,  and  all  around  the  beautiful  little  island,  a  line 
dropped  close  to  the  shore  gave  five  fathoms.  The  western 
coast,  which  was  less  than  a  mile  distant,  appeared  wonderfully 
green  and  beautiful.  It  curved  inward  so  as  to  form  a  charm 
ing  sheltered  bay,  near  the  head  of  which  the  two  villages  of 
Otsu  and  Torigasaki  lay  embosomed  in  foliage.  There  was 
a  small  battery,  almost  masked  by  trees,  on  the  summit  of 
the  island,  and  another  on  the  point  of  the  cape  below  us. 
This  part  of  the  bay  is  completely  land-locked,  the  promon- 
tory of  Uraga  projecting  so  far  as  to  cover  one  third  of  the 
eastern  shore.  The  surveying  boats  were  occupied  during  the 
whole  of  the  day,  without  any  interference  on  the  part  of  the 
Japanese,  who  seemed  to  have  made  up  their  minds  to  submit 
to  these  unusual  proceedings.  Too  much  credit,  however, 
cannot  be  awarded  to  the  different  officers,  and  especially  to 
Lieut.  Bent,  for  the  coolness  and  courage  with  which  they  pro- 
secuted iheir  work.  When  we  consider  that  this,  one  of  the 
greatest  bays  in  the  world,  liad  hitherto  never  been  surveyed, 
the  interest  and  value  of  their  labors  will  be  better  under* 
itood. 

Yezaimon  came  again  on  Saturday  morning,  accompanied 
by  both  the  Interpreters.     This  time  they  brought  a  numbei 


.INTERCHANGE    OF    PRESENTS.  439 

cf  presents,  as  souvenirs  of  our  visit — consisting  of  lac()[uered 
cups,  very  light  and  elegant  in  form,  brocade  silks,  richly 
wrought  with  gold  and  silver  thread,  tobacco  pipes  and  pouches, 
and  fans  covered  with  hideously  distorted  and  lackadaisi'^a^ 
pictures  of  Japanese  ladies.  The  Commodore  was  willing  Ur 
receive  them,  but  insisted  on  giving  something  in  return.  A 
selection  of  American  manufactures  was  made,  which,  with 
some  maps,  engravings,  arms  and  other  articles,  formed  a  re- 
turn more  than  equal  in  value.  They  refused  to  take  any  thing, 
affirming  that  it  was  forbidden  by  their  laws,  and  would  sub- 
ject them  to  the  danger  of  losing  their  lives :  besides,  thej 
declared,  the  presents  offered  them  were  too  valuable  to  be  ac- 
cepted. They  were  each  willing  to  receive  some  small  articles, 
which  could  be  readily  concealed  about  their  persons,  but  were 
positively  informed  that  we  could  accept  of  nothing  unless  they 
took  our  gifts,  with  the  exception  of  the  arms,  which  were  re- 
moved, as  they  stated  that  they  could  in  no  case  give  or  re- 
ceive arms.  When  Yezaimon  saw  his  presents  about  to  be 
tumbled  back  into  his  boat,  he  yielded  at  once,  choosing  what 
he  probably  considered  the  least  dangerous  horn  of  the  di- 
lemma. 

In  the  afternoon  they  returned  in  the  best  possible  humor, 
their  course  having  apparently  been  sanctioned  by  some  higher 
authority  on  shore.  They  brought  off  a  quantity  of  fowls  in  light 
wicker  coops,  and  three  or  four  thousand  eggs  in  boxes,  taking 
away  in  return  a  large  case  of  American  garden-seeds.  The  inter 
view  lasted  a  considerable  time,  as  they  were  socially  disposed 
and  partook  of  refreshments,  both  solid  and  liquid.  Tatsonoske 
stated,  in  a  half-confidential  way,  that  the  letter  of  the  Presi 
dent  had  been  received  in  Yedo,  and  that  if  the   translatioi 


'140  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

which  they  had  already  obtained  through  the  Dutch  correspond 
ed  with  the  original,  the  Government  would  be  disposed  to  re 
gard  it  very  favorably.  He  also  hinted  that  Yezaimon  would 
8hortly  be  promoted  to  a  much  higher  rank.  The  latter  was 
exceedingly  jovial,  and  stated,  by  an  expressive  pantomime, 
that  he  would  shed  tears  on  the  departure  of  the  squadron.  It 
was  dusk  when  the  boat  pulled  off,  and  the  shadows  of  tho 
wooded  hills,  lengthening  over  the  water,  soon  hid  from  sight 
the  last  glimpse  of  our  Japanese  friends. 

On  Sunday  morning,  the  17th  we  hove  anchor  and  started 
for  Loo-Choo,  having  in  the  space  of  ten  days  accomplished 
more  than  any  other  nation  had  been  able  to  effect  for  the  last 
two  centuries.  The  universal  feeling  on  board  was  one  of  hon- 
est pride  and  exultation.  Knowing  the  cunning  and  duplicity 
of  the  people  with  whom  we  had  to  deal,  it  was  a  satisfaction 
to  find  all  their  arts  of  diplomacy  completely  shattered  by 
the  simple,  straightforward,  resolute  course  adopted  by  Com- 
modore Perry.  Nothing  could  have  been  better  managed,  from 
first  to  last ;  and  I  have  reason  to  know  that  the  final  success 
of  the  Expedition  was  owing  to  no  fortunate  combination  of 
circumstances,  but  wholly  to  the  prudent  and  sagacious  plan 
pre-arranged  by  its  Commander. 

The  day  of  our  departure  was  clear  and  warm,  and  the 
morning  light  fell  softly  on  the  verdurous  shores,  as  we  passed 
the  promontory  of  Uraga.  The  soldiers  were  all  gathered  on 
the  terraces,  in  front  of  the  batteries  to  see  us  pass.  The 
Mississippi  kept  such  a  station  on  our  port  quarter,  that  from 
the  shore  she  would  appear  as  far  behiaid  the  Saratoga,  as  that 
Fessel  from  the  Susquehanna;  and  the  sight  of  four  great 
war-ships,  with    all   sails  furled   and  yards  squared,  keeping 


THE    ISLANDS    OF    THE    BAT.  441 

eqiki-distant  from  each  other  to  a  hair's  breadtn,  yet  moving 
through  the  water  at  the  rate  of  eight  or  nine  knots,  must  have 
struck  the  Japanese  as  something  miraculous.  The  day  was 
0  clear  that  the  inhabitants  of  both  shores  had  an  excellent 
jpportunity  of  seeing  the  performance  of  the  vessels,  and  we 
oon  found  that  the  news  of  our  departure  had  preceded  us. 
As  we  drew  abreast  of  Cape  Sagami,  and  made  down  the  centre 
of  the  bay,  keeping  much  nearer  the  eastern  shore  than  on  our 
entrance,  we  found  the  water  covered  with  boats,  which  had 
brought  out  loads  of  the  Japanese  to  get  a  nearer  view.  The 
bay  was  sprinkled  with  them,  far  and  near,  and  at  a  moderaU 
calculation,  I  should  say  that  there  were  at  least  five  hundred 
Some  of  them  were  so  curious  as  to  approach  within  four  or 
five  hundred  yards,  when  the  men  lay  on  their  oars,  and  re- 
mained standing  motionless  until  long  after  we  had  passea.  I 
caught  a  parting  glimpse  of  the  cone  of  Fusi-Yamma  through 
the  rifts  of  a  pile  of  fleecy  clouds,  high  over  the  head  of  the 
Bay  of  Kowadzu. 

We  steered  for  the  uorthem  or  main  entrance  of  the  bay, 
keeping  between  three  and  four  miles  from  the  northern  shore, 
which  belongs  to  the  province  of  Awa.  Vries  Island,  or 
Oosima,  lay  to  the  south  of  us.  It  has  a  bold,  convex  outline, 
and  its  summit  was  lost  in  the  c'^ouds.  It  is  an  admirable  land- 
mark for  mariners,  and  in  connection  with  Cape  Idzu  and 
Kock  Island,  forms  a  sure  guide  for  vessels  entering  the  Bay 
of  Yedo  from  the  east  or  south.  Our  course  was  nearly  due 
Bouth  for  the  remain  ler  of  the  day,  and  the  chain  of  islands 
which  extends  from  the  mouth  of  the  bay  to  the  penal  colony 
of  Fatsisio,  gradually  rose  to  view.  They  seem  to  have  beer 
irerj  imperfectly  explored,  foi  on  none  of  our  charts  were  they 
19* 


142  INDIA,    CHINA,     kND    JAPAN 

laid  down  .^orrectly  Vulcan  Island  is  conspicuous  for  ill 
iofty,  conical  pummit,  the  sides  of  which  are  streaked  with  de- 
posits of  lava.  It  was  covered,  from  the  brink  of  its  sea- worn 
orags,  with  the  most  luxuriant  vegetation.  To  the  east  of  i^ 
was  another  island,  not  giveL  in  any  chart,  and  the  Commodoije 
accordingly  took  the  explorer's  right,  and  named  it  "  Missis- 
sippi Island."  A  cluster  of  very  peculiar  pointed  rocks,  rising 
like  broken  obelisks  to  the  height  of  a  hundred  feet,  received 
the  Susquehanna's  name.  The  Plymouth  and  Saratoga  were 
also  honored — the  first  with  a  large  isolated  rock,  the  second 
with  an  island — both  of  which  we  claim  the  merit  of  dis- 
covering. 

The  features  of  this  group  are  grand  and  imposing.  The 
shores  of  these  islands  are  mostly  precipitous,  presenting  few 
accessible  points,  and  being  nearly  circular  in  form,  enhance  the 
effect  of  the  lofty  summits  into  which  they  rise.  I  counted 
eight  around  us  at  one  time ;  some  bold  and  strongly  defined, 
from  their  vicinity ;  others  distant,  blue,  and  floating  in  a  va- 
pory atmosphere,  like  the  phantoms  of  islands.  We  could  not 
discern  any  dwellings  upon  them,  but  it  is  probable  that  they 
Are  partly  inhabited.  We  passed  through  them  all  before  sun- 
set, and  still  steering  southward,  hoped  to  have  caught  a 
glimpse  of  Fatsisio,  which  could  not  have  been  more  than 
twenty-five  miles  distant;  but  night  set  in,  and  the  vessels 
were  put  upon  their  course  for   Loo-Choo. 

For  the  next  two  days,  we  ran  in  a  south-westerly  direc- 
tion, aided  by  a  strong  east  wind.  The  Saratoga  was  cast  off 
in  Lat.  30°  N.,  and  left  to  make  her  way  to  Shanghai,  where 
she  was  ordered  tc  wintei.  The  Mississippi  also  cast  off  the 
Plymouth,  which  was  directed  to  sound  aad  survey  along  th« 


RETURN    TO    LOO    CHOO.  443 

w^estern  side  of  Ohosima  (the  island  supposed  to  liave  been 
discovered  by  the  Preble),  while  the  Susquehanna  would  cruise 

.  along  the  eastern  side.  Commodore  Perry's  intention  was  to 
•ipend  two  or  three  days  in  fixing  the  position  and  dimensions 
of  the  island,  and  in  communicating,  if  the  nature  of  the  coast 
would  allow,  with  the  inhabitants.  We  looked  forward  to  the 
visit  with  interest,  as  there  is  no  account  of  any  vessel  having 
ever  touched  there.  It  is  not  often  that  the  traveller  meets 
with  a  large  community  of  semi-civilized  people,  to  whom  the 
European  race  is  unknown. 

On  Wednesday,  July  20th,  however,  a  typhoon  came  on 
from  the  east.  Our  topmasts  and  topgallant-masts  were 
sent  down,  and  we  scudded  along  with  only  the  trysails  set. 
The  Susquehanna  rolled  in  a  most  extraordinary  manner,  and 
the  great  pivot-gun  on  her  poop,  was  so  secured  with  lashings, 
and  bindings  of  every  description,  that  it  resembled  an  im- 
mense cast-iron  babe  in  swaddling-bands.  For  two  days  the 
storm  continued  to  rage  with  much  violence.  Both  our  fore 
and  main  trysail-gaffs  were  carried  away,  and  the  Mississippi 
lost  two  of  her  boats.  We  stood  off  and  on  for  two  days,  but 
the  sea  continued  so  rough  that  the  idea  of  proceeding  tc 
Ohosima  was  finally  abandoned,  and  we  made  for  the  harbor  of 
Napa,  in  Loo-Choo,  where  we  arrived  on  the  25th.     Thus  ended 

N  the  first  campaign  of  the  United  States  Expedition  to  Japan- - 
concerning  which,  it  will  ever  be  to  me  a  source  of  pride  and 
satisfaction,  to  say:  Pars parva fui. 

Note. — The  result  of  the  Expedition  to  Japan  is  now  known  all 
over  the  world.  Commodore  Perry  returned  to  the  Bay  of  Yedo  in 
February,  1854,  his  squadron  augmented  by  the  steam-frigate  Powhatan 
the   sloops-of-war   ^ihccdnnian  and  luadalia,  and  the  store-ships  f^cx 


444  INDIA,    CHINA,    AISD    JAPAN. 

ington  and  Southampton.  He  anchored  before  Ivanagawa,  a  remoU 
suburb  of  Yedo,  and  after  vanous  interviews  with  a  Council  of  nve 
Princes  of  the  Empire,  appointed  to  confer  with  him,  concluded  a 
treaty  of  amity  and  commerce  between  the  United  States  and  Japan, 
at  the  village  of  Yoko-hama,  near  Kanagawa,  in  the  beginning  oi 
April.  By  this  treaty  the  ports  of  Simoda,  in  Niphon  (about  120  miles 
from  Yedo),  Hakodadi  in  the  island  of  Jesso,  and  Napa-Kiang  in  Lot» 
Choo,  are  opened  to  American  vessels  for  the  purposes  of  trade.  The 
squadron  visited  both  the  former  ports,  and  the  officers  of  the  Expe- 
dition were  allowed  perfect  liberty  to  go  on  shore,  mingle  freely  with 
the  inhabitants,  and  make  excursions  inland  to  the  distance  of  twenty 
miles.  The  success  of  the  negotiations  was  as  complete,  in  fact,  as  the 
most  sanguine  friend  of  the  undertaking  could  have  desired,  and  reflects 
great  honor  on  the  skill  and  prudence  which  marked  the  course  oi 
CJonmiodore  Perry.  As  my  connection  with  the  Expedition  ceased  after 
our  return  to  China,  I  shall  not  attempt  a  history  of  its  second  and  fai 
more  interesting  campaign — a  complete  account  of  which  the  public 
will  soon  possess  in  the  national  work  now  bfing  published  under  tht 
iropervision  of  Commodore  Perry. 


CHAPTER    XXXYI. 

OPERATIONS      IN      LOO-CHOO. 

Negotiations  with  the  New  Regent— Captain  Hall's  Account  of  Loo-Choo— Napo- 
leon's Incredulity— Its  Correctness — Verification  of  the  Japanese  Chronicle— 
The  Three  Castles— The  Government  of  Loo-Choo— Provisions  for  the  Squadron 
—Duplicity  of  the  Officials— The  Markets  deserted— The  Spies— The  Telegraph 
and  Daguerreotype  in  Loo-Choo — Demands  of  Commodore  Perry — The  Regent's 
Reply— The  Commodore  successful— A  Scene  in  the  Market-place— Chase  and 
Capture  of  a  Spy— The  Coal  Depot— Exhibition  of  Loo-Choo  Industry— National 
Contrasts — Steamship  Line  across  the  Pacific. 

During  our  second  visit  to  Napa-Kiang,  on  our  return  from 
Japan,  Commodore  Perry  opened  negotiations  with  the  new 
Regent  (tlie  old  one  having  been  deposed  during  our  absence), 
for  the  purposi  of  procuring  privileges,  which  would  enable 
him  to  make  the  island  a  permanent  rendezvous  for  the  squad- 
ron during  its  stay  in  the  East.  In  order  to  grant  his  re- 
quests, it  was  necessary  to  depart  in  some  degree  from  the  ex- 
clusive principle,  which  the  Loo-Chooans  have  either  borrowed 
from,  or  had  forced  upon  them  by  Japan  ;  and  consequently, 
while — knowing  our  strength  and  their  weaknes^s — they  avoided 
a  candid  opposition^  they  know  how  to  assume  an  attitude 
of  passive  resistance,  which  was  far  more  perplexing.    The  ap- 


446  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

parent  insincerity  of  their  declarations,  the  shifts  to  which  thej 
resorted,  and  the  deception  they  attempted  to  practise  upon  us 
taught  the  Commodore,  finally,  the  only  effective  method  of 
dealing  with  them,  and  gave  us  a  better  insight  into  their  real 
character  than  has  fallen  to  the  lot  of  any  explorers  who  visit- 
ed the  island  before  us. 

I  cannot  here  avoid  allusion  to  the  well-known  work  ot 
Capt.  Bacil  Hall,  who  has  given  the  most  full  and  detailed  ac 
count  of  Loo- C hoc  which  we  possess.  He  was  commander  of 
the  Lyra^  which,  with  the  frigate  Alceste,  visited  the  island 
thirty-five  years  ago,  and  remained  about  six  weeks  at  Napa- 
Kiang.  He  had  considerable  intercourse  with  the  natives, 
whom  he  paints  in  the  most  glowing  colors,  as  models  of  primi- 
tive simplicity,  innocence  and  goodness,  such  as  are  to  be 
found  in  no  other  part  of  the  globe.  He  announces  as  facts 
that  tliey  were  ignorant  of  the  use  of  money,  that  they  had  no 
arms,  and  that  wars  were  unknown  in  their  history.  When 
Capt.  Hall  afterward  mentioned  these  things  to  Napoleon,  at 
St.  Helena,  the  Emperor  shook  his  head  incredulously,  and  ex- 
claimed :  "  Point  d^  armes  /  point  de  guerres  ! — impossible  I  '' 
He  was  right;  and  the  Captain,  on  these  afid  many  other 
points,  was  thoroughly  cajoled  by  the  Loo-Chooans.  When 
we  first  arrived  they  told  us  the  same  things,  yet  we  soon  found 
that  they  were  familiar  with  money  and  arms — especially  the 
former — and  Klaproth's  translation  of  the  "jRaw  To  Sets,^^  a 
Japanese  chronicle,  gives  an  account  of  their  wars  Their 
wonderful  innocence  and  simplicity  prove  to  be  the  disguises 
assumed  by  a  marvellous  cunning,  and  their  alleged  goodness  ol 
heart  is  illustrated  by  a  G  vernment  which  makes  luxuriouj 
drones  of  a  small  class,  and  abj  ct  slaves  of  all  others. 


GOVERNMENT    OF    LOO-CHOO.  447 

During  our  exploration  of  the  island,  we  found  an  interest 
ing  verification  of  its  former  history,  as  given  in  the  Japanese 
chronicle.  It  is  there  stated,  that  there  were  originally  three 
kingdoms,  called  the  Northern,  Central  and  Southern,  the  firsl 
nd  last  named  of  which  were  in  the  course  of  time,  and  after 
lingering  civil  wars,  absorbed  by  the  third.  On  our  exj  edi 
tion  into  the  interior,  in  the  beginning  of  June,  we  discovered, 
as  T  liave  already  stated,  the  ruins  of  the  fortress-palace  of  the 
Northern  King — a  massive  edifice,  600  feet  in  length,  on  the 
summit  of  a  mountain.  The  present  Viceroy,  descended  from 
the  rulers  of  the  Central  Kingdom,  still  inhabits  their  castle 
the  inscription  over  the  gate  of  Shui,  the  capital,  is :  "  The 
Central  Hill,"  and  it  was  therefore  to  be  expected  that  the 
castle  of  the  third  King  might  be  found  in  the  southern  part 
of  the  island.  Accordingly,  on  our  return  from  Japan,  Com- 
modore Perry  directed  several  ofl&cers,  of  whom  I  was  one,  to 
make  explorations  in  that  quarter,  and  we  finally  discovered 
the  ruins  of  the  castle,  about  four  miles  south-east  of  Napa,  on 
the  summit  of  a  precipitous  cliff,  which  commanded  a  view  of 
an  extensive  and  beautiful  landscape.  The  place  is  called  by 
the  natives  "  Timagusku,"  and  has  been  so  despoiled  that  only 
two  gateways  remain  entire.  The  outer  walls  inclose  an  area 
of  nearly  eight  acres. 

It  was  not  so  easy  to  obtain  correct  particulars  concerning 
the  structure  of  the  Government,  although  its  character  waa 
exhibited  in  its  effects  upon  the  population.  The  present 
Vicero?  is  a  minor,  and  the  chief  authority  is  exercised  by  a 
Regent,  the  three  Treasurers  of  the  kingdom,  and  perhaps 
some  additional  officers,  forming  a  Council  which  he  consults, 
and  in  which,  apparently,  is  vested  the  right  to  appoint  or  de 


448  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

pose  him.  There  are  also  various  grades  of  civil  rank,  as  ir 
China  and  JajDan.  The  soil  is  considered  the  property  of  the 
State,  and  all  that  it  yields  is  divided  into  ten  parts,  six  ol 
wliich  are  appropriated  by  the  Government.  There  is  ever} 
evidence  that  a  system  of  espionage,  similar  to  that  of  Japan, 
is  practised.  The  deep-rooted  fear  and  mistrust  of  the  people 
toward  the  officers  of  the  Grovernment,  can  only  be  accounted 
for  by  the  existence  of  such  a  system.  Wherever  we  went  we 
found  ourselves  preceded  and  followed  by  spies,  who  drove  the 
populace  from  our  path,  forced  them  in  some  instances  to  quit 
their  dwellings  or  abandon  their  villages,  and  prevented  them 
from  holding  any  communication  with  us.  Although,  owing 
to  the  remonstrances  made  by  Commodore  Perry,  this  annoy- 
ing surveillance  was  relaxed  toward  the  close  of  our  stay,  it 
was  never  wholly  abandoned. 

After  our  arrival  at  Napa-Kiang,  in  May,  the  squadron 
was  in  want  of  fresh  provisions,  and  the  Commodore  requested 
that  supplies  might  be  furnished,  promising  that  full  value 
should  be  paid  for  every  article.  The  Loo-Choo  authorities  at 
first  objected,  stating  that  their  island  was  poor,  and  that 
money  was  of  no  use  to  them,  but  that  they  would  furnish 
gratuitously  what  little  they  could  spare  from  their  own 
needs ;  yet  after  some  negotiations,  they  agreed  to  the  demand, 
and  fixed  a  scale  of  prices,  which,  on  comparison  with  those 
of  China,  we  found  to  be  sufficiently  high.  The  weU-stocked 
markets  of  Napa,  and  the  rich  gardens  and  harvest-fields 
which  covered  the  island,  contradicted  their  complaints  of 
poverty.  When  the  day  of  settlement  came,  they  were  al- 
ways in  readiness  to  receive  the  money,  and  took  the  Spanish 


CrOVERNMENT    SPIES,  449 

iollars  and  A.merican  eagles  w'lh  great  satisfaction.     Thas  th€ 
way  was  broken  for  a  closer  iDtercourse  with  the  people. 

The  next  step  was  to  obtain  our  supplies  direct  from  the 
markets  of  Napa.  The  persons  appointed  to  fill  up  the  lists 
Bent  from  the  different  vessels  fulfilled  their  office  in  a  very 
satisfactory  manner.  In  few  instances  was  more  than  half  the 
amount  supplied,  \\hich  had  been  called  for,  and  at  last,  when 
a  mess  needed  a  dozen  fowls  and  a  hundred  eggs,  it  was  neces- 
sary to  demand  50  of  the  one,  and  500  of  the  other.  The  ob- 
ject of  this  -was  to  keep  up  the  appearance  of  poverty,  thi)ugh 
at  the  same  time  the  public  markets,  open  to  the  natives, 
abounded  in  every  thing  which  we  stood  in  need  of.  Many 
persons — both  officers  and  men — went  ashore  repeatedly,  and 
endeavored  to  make  purchases,  but  they  were  successful  in  very 
few  instances.  They  were  dogged  by  spies,  whose  appearance 
sufficed  to  clear  the  market  in  a  few  minutes.  The  natives 
fled  precipitately  in  all  directions,  leaving  their  stands  of 
fruit,  vegetables,  potterv  and  other  articles  of  sale  or  barter, 
entirelj  unprotected,  and  the  market-square  which,  when  we 
first  caught  sight  of  it,  was  crowded  with  hundreds  of  busy 
buyers  and  sellers,  was  left  vacant  and  desolate.  Tlie  same 
course  yis  followed  in  all  parts  of  the  town.  Shops  were 
closed,  streets  deserted,  and  though  we  sometimes  endeavored 
to  steal  a  marcli  upon  the  inhabitants  by  darting  suddenly 
into  a  private  dwelling,  we  rarely  succeeded  in  finding  any. 
one  within  Yet,  whenever,  by  chance,  we  met  with  them 
when  no  spies  were  visible,  they  showed  an  evident  good-wiU 
towards  us,  and  a  desire  to  cultivate  a  familiar  mtercourse, 
At  such  times  they  thankfully  accepted  money  or  presents, 
which  they  steadfastly  refused,  when  any  agent  of  the  Qovem- 


450  INDIA,  CHINA,  AND  JAPAN. 

ment  was  near.  On  our  tours  of  exploration,  we  generally 
carried  with  u<5  a  quantity  of  ship's  bi.-cuit,  which  the  inhabi- 
tant- of  tlie  villages  took  very  eagerly,  seeming  to  consider  il 
a  great  delicacy. 

During  our  first  visit,  the  Commodore  applied  to  the  au- 
thorities to  lea>e  liim  a  house  on  shore  for  a  short  time,  that 
the  daguerreotype  and  telegraphic  apparatus  might  be  put  up 
and  tested.  They  designated  the  little  temple  near  tlie  village 
of  Tumai,  two  miles  north  of  Napa,  which  had  been  given  to 
Capts.  Maxwell  and  Hall,  as  a  hospital  for  their  seamen. 
There  is  a  coirect  sketch  of  it  in  Hall's  work.  Messrs.  Brown 
and  Draper,  the  artists,  went  ashore  with  their  assistants,  and 
remained  ther*'  three  week-.  Tliey  were  daily  vi-ited  by  num- 
bers of  the  better  class  of  natives,  who  watched  theif  operations 
with  the  greatest  curiosity.  They  at  once  compiehended  the 
properties  of  the  daguerreotype,  and  willingly  sat  for  their 
portraits.  They  understood  the  necessity  of  remaining  per- 
fectly quiet,  and  were  as  rigid  as  statues,  not  venturing  to 
move  an  eyelid.  When  the  impression  was  good,  nothing 
could  exceed  their  wonder  and  delight.  The  excessive  moist- 
ure in  the  air  of  Loo-Choo,  and  the  absence  of  any  fitting  lo- 
cation for  the  instruments,  operated  unfavorably  upon  the 
plates,  and  not  more  than  twenty  good  pictures  were  procured. 
These,  however,  are  of  much  value,  as  giving  perfect  represen- 
tations of  the  features  and  costumes  of  the  Loo-Chooans. 
The  telegraphic  api)aratus  worked  admirably,  and  though  the 
natives  could  only  pariially  comprehend  its  character,  they  re^ 
garded  it  with  a  kind  of  superstitious  awe. 

Considering  the  advantages  which  the  island  of  Loo-Choo 
offered  as  a  temporary  naval  station,  and  rendezvous  for  the 


EASTERN  DIPLOMACY  AQAXS,  451 

Bquadron — its  proximity  to  Japan ;  its  temperate  and  healthy 
climate ;  its  secure  harbor,  and  its  remoteness  from  the  jealous 
watchfulness  of  rival  nations — Commodore  Perry  made  the 
following  demands  of  the  Regent :  1st,  that  the  Government 
should  lease  him  a  building  suitable  for  a  coal  depot ;  2d,  that 
the  markets  of  Napa  should  be  thrown  open  to  us,  and  the  na- 
tives be  allowed  to  deal  directly  with  us,  without  the  tedious 
and  unsatisfactory  agency  of  the  oflBcial  purveyors ;  3d,  that 
the  system  of  espionage  to  which  we  had  been  subjected, 
should  be  relinquished  in  future  ;  and  4th,  that  the  Government 
should  make  a  collection  of  the  articles  manufactured  in  the 
island,  in  order  that  we  might  have  an  opportunity  of  purchas- 
ing specimens.  It  was  represented,  in  support  of  these  de- 
mands, that  two  months  of  intercourse,  during  which  they  had 
no  single  cause  of  complaint  against  any  person  belonging  to 
the  squadron,  should  be  sufficient  to  convince  them  of  our 
friendly  disposition  toward  them ;  that  in  allowing  us  to  pur- 
chase the  commodities  which  their  people  offered  for  sale,  we 
conferred  a  direct  benefit  upon  them  ;  that  we  had  explored 
their  island,  seen  its  abundant  resources,  and  knew  that  they 
would  be  enriched,  not  impoverished,  by  the  supplies  which 
they  furnished  us;  and  lastly,  that  both  as  friends  to  the 
Loo-Chooans,  and  as  the  representatives  of  a  great  nation,  the 
employment  of  spies  to  watch  our  motions  was  an  indignity  to 
which  we  could  no  longer  submit. 

Tlie  reply  of  the  Regent  was  a  good  illustration  of  the  in- 
sincere, evasive  diplomacy  of  P^astern  nations.  It  granted 
nothing  and  denied  nothing.  With  regard  to  the  coal  depot, 
tt  was  suggested  that  the  people  would  steal  the  coal  in  case 
it  was  deposited  there;  that   typhoons   might   blow  down  the 


152  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN 

building;  that  there  was  no  part  of  the  harbor  where  G.SLi. 
eould  be  landed,  Sio.  As  for  the  markets,  they  had  never  pre* 
rented  us  from  going  there  to  purchase,  but  the  people  feared 
and  they  fled  away  because  they  w^ere  afraid.  The  persona 
who  followed  us  were  not  spies,  but  officers  appointed  to  watch 
over,  protect  and  assist  us.  If  we  did  not  desire  them  they 
would  be  released  from  their  service.  The  reply  wound  up  as 
usual,  by  a  declaration  of  the  smallness  and  poverty  of  the 
island.  The  Commodore  however  took  a  blunt,  straight  for- 
ward course  which  obliged  them  to  give  a  decisive  answer,  and 
as  in  the  case  of  the  Japanese,  he  gained  his  point.  His  diplo- 
macy, no  doubt,  seemed  somewhat  arbitrary  in  both  cases,  buJ 
where  dissimulation  and  evasion  form  the  web  of  a  policy,  as 
with  these  nations,  there  is  no  course  so  effective  as  plain  com- 
mon sense,  backed  up  by  a  good  reserve  of  physical  force. 

A  number  of  us  went  ashore  the  day  after  the  concessions 
were  made,  in  order  to  test  their  good  faith.  "We  entered  Napa, 
and  set  out  for  the  market-place,  keeping  a  good  watch  to  see 
whether  any  spies  were  lurking  about.  Most  of  the  shops  were 
shut  as  usual,  but  we  found  the  market  crowded,  and  a  brisk 
trade  going  on  in  vegetables,  cheese,  pork,  earthenware,  paper, 
plain  cotton  goods,  and  the  other  articles  in  common  use 
among  the  natives.  At  first,  our  appearance  created  no  dis- 
turbance, but  we  had  scarcely  reached  the  middle  of  the  square, 
when  the  crowd  began  to  scatter  as  if  a  bomb  shell  had  fallen 
among  them.  The  superannuated  old  women  who  could  not 
get  out  of  the  way,  crouched  behind  their  umbrellas,  and  if  wfl 
approached  them,  turned  their  heads  aside  or  stuck  them  undei 
their  arms,  that  they  might  not  see  us.  Except  by  them,  and 
a  few  men  of  the  lowest   class,  the  place  was   «oon   deserted 


BUILDING  A   COAL   DEPOT.  45S 

We  looked  n  all  directions  for  the  source  of  this  dispersion, 
and  at  last  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  head  of  a  spy,  peeping 
cautiously  around  a  comer.  We  instantly  gave  chase,  but  he 
escaped  us.  Wherever  we  went,  we  saw  them  dodging  us  in  th< 
distance,  and  if  we  turned  on  our  steps  and  followed  them,  they 
took  to  their  heels.  But  tliere  was  one — an  ill-favored,  one- 
eyed  gentleman  in  a  robe  of  yellow  grass-cloth — who  peisisted 
in  keeping  close  to  us.  At  last  a  spirited  midshipman  started 
in  chase  of  him.  Away  they  raced  through  the  poi  k  market, 
the  people  scattei-ing  on  both  sides  before  them,  yet  looking  on 
with  evident  amusement.  The  one-eyed  gentleman  spread  his 
robes  on  the  wind,  but  the  midshipman  gained  on  him,  and 
finally  grasping  him  by  the  back  of  the  neck,  gave  him  a 
shaking  that  made  his  remaining  eye  quiver  in  its  socket.  He 
did  not  return,  and  we  had  the  satisfaction  of  purchasing  some 
cucumbers  in  the  market — which  was  at  least  a  beginning  of 
trade. 

The  site  for  a  coal  depot  was  at  once  selected,  the  dimen- 
Bions  given,  and  before  we  left,  a  company  of  Loo-Choo  carpen- 
ters were  on  the  ground,  hewing  the  timbers  which  were  to 
form  the  frame  of  the  building.  It  was  located  in  the  creek 
of  Tumai,  the  most  convenient  place  for  landing,  and  near  the 
Httle  temple,  which  was  at  that  time  occupied  by  an  officer  and 
two  or  three  men  from  the  storeship  Supply.  The  sloop-of- 
war  Plymouth  was  ordered  to  remain  at  Napa,  until  relieved 
by  the  Vandalia,  so  that  the  entering  wedge  we  drove  into 
Loo-Choo  ex  elusive  n  ess,  which  had  remained  intact  up  to  the 
time  of  our  arrival,  will  continue  to  widen  the  breach,  and 
effect  a  permanent  opening  for  intercourse  with  the  rest  of 
mankind. 


454  INDIA,      CHINA,      AND     JAPAN. 

The  "  Great  Exhibition  "  of  Loo-Choo  Industry  came  off  ol 
the  niorniug  we  left  Napa  for  iiong  Kong.  It  took  place  in 
the  cung-qua,  a  government  buildli^g  of  the  town,  under  the 
auspicos  of  the  Mayor  and  a  number  of  civil  officers.  As  il 
was  probably  the  first  attempt  at  such  a  display  ever  made  in 
the  Island,  it  was  got  up  in  creditable  style.  The  articles  con 
sisted  of  Loo-Choo  cotton  and  grass-cloths,  in  pieces  and  made 
into  garments ;  Japanese  silks ;  brass  hair-pins ;  straw  sandals , 
fans ;  tobacco  pipes  and  pouches,  of  various  kinds  ;  chow  chow, 
or  refreshment  boxes ;  paper,  of  different  colors ;  earthen 
pots,  pans  and  vases,  some  of  them  neatly  glazed,  and  a  great 
variety  of  black  and  scarlet  lacquered  ware.  The  fair  was  at- 
tended by  all  of  the  officers  who  could  be  spared  from  the 
vessels,  and  as  they  were  all  anxious  to  procure  some  souvenir 
of  the  Island,  the  sales  were  brisk  and  rapid,  and  most  of  the 
articles  went  off  at  a  premium.  We  computed  that  there  were 
at  least  a  hundred  dollars  spent  on  the  occasion.  The  steamers 
were  under  sailing  orders,  and  the  activity  that  prevailed  on 
our  part  seemed  to  puzzle  and  bewilder  the  deliberate  and  im- 
passive Loo-Chooans.  Such  avidity  to  purchase  such  apparent 
recklessness  of  expenditure,  were  quite  beyond  their  compre 
hension.  They  lost  "  the  run  "  of  us,  and  looked  on  in  help- 
less amazement,  trusting  to  Fate  for  the  final  balance  to  show 
a  preponderance  in  their  favor. 

Thus,  in  addition  to  the  establishment  of  friendly  inter- 
course with  Japan,  Commodore  Perry  has  opened  Loo-Choo, 
its  most  important  dependency.  At  the  same  time,  by  his 
purchase  of  the  tract  of  land  best  adapted  for  a  coal  depot,  on 
Port  Lloyd,  in  the  Bonin  Islands,  he  has  secured  to  the  United 
States  the  most  available  station  in  the  Western  Pacific  for  s 


ENTERING    PORT   LLOYD.  455 

line  of  steamers  between  China  and  California.  Hoi.olulu  and 
Port  Lloyd  are  the  natural  stopping-places  on  the  route  be- 
tween San  Francisco  and  Shanghai.  For  the  first,  coal  may 
be  transported  from  Oregon  and  Vancouver's  Island;  for  th( 
second,  from  tlie  Japanese  island  of  Kiusiu,  less  than  five 
hundred  miles  distant.  Loo-Choo  lies  too  far  south  for  the 
route  to  Shanghai,  but  that  to  Hong  Kong  passes  near  it.  Ita 
commerce  is  too  trifling  to  be  an  object  of  consideration ;  but 
as  a  naval  statior  <  r  a  port  for  supplies,  it  has  many  things  to 
recommend  it,  and  the  step  whicn  has  been  made  toward  bring- 
ing it  into  the  list  of  lands  which  are  open  to  intercourse  with 
the  civilized  world,  deserves  to  be  recorded 


\ 


CHAPTER  XXXVIl. 

NAVAL     LIFE. 

Return  to  Hong  Kong— End  of  the  Cruise — Experience  of  Nayal  Litis — My  Dutae*  oa 

Board— "General  Quarters  "—Our  Crew— Decline  of  Naval  Discipline— False  System 
of  Promotion— Delays— What  is  Needed— Ilarmony  of  Government  at  Sea— Th« 
Abolition  of  Corporeal  Punishment — Want  of  an  Efficient  Substitute — Government 
on  Sea  and  Land — Mr.  Kennedy's  Proposal  for  Registered  Seamen — Efifect  of  Long 
Cruises— Need  of  Small  Vessels  in  Chinese  Waters. 

We  sailed  from  Loo-Choo  on  the  Ist  of  August,  but  were 
delayed  by  stroug  head-winds,  until  we  had  doubled  the  south- 
ern end  of  the  island  of  Formosa,  and  entered  the  China  Sea. 
On  the  second  day  out  from  Napa  we  saw  some  of  the  Madjico- 
sima  Islands,  which  lie  between  Formosa  and  the  Loo-Choo 
group,  and  at  dusk  tlie  same  evening  met  the  sloop-of-war 
Vandalia,  on  her  way  to  join  the  squadron.  Salutes  were  ex- 
changed, Capt.  Pope  reported  himself  to  tiie  Commodore,  re- 
ceived his  orders,  and  the  vessels  lost  each  other  again  in  the 
darkness.  The  rest  of  the  voyage  was  without  incident.  B 
taking  a  more  southern  course  than  usual  across  the  China 
Sea,  we  missed  encountering  the  steam-frigate  Powhatan^ 
which  sailed  from  Hong  Kong  on  the  6th,  the  day  previous  to 


MY    DUTIES    ON    BOARD. 


451 


oxir  arrival  th^jre.  At  sunset  on  the  7tli,  I  saw  again  the  bleak 
hills  and  the  long  semi-European  town  which  I  had  left  in 
March  previous,  and  when  the  anchor  dropped  m  the  harbor 
ay  last  cruise  on  a  Government  vessel  was  at  an  end. 

I  shall  always  look  back  upon  my  short  experience  of  naval 
ife  as  one  of  the  most  agreeable  and  interesting  episodes  of  my 
travels.  Apart  from  the  rare  opportunity  which  it  afforded 
me  of  visiting  and  exploring  remote  and  unfrequented  portions 
of  the  earth,  it  has  enabled  me  to  gain  some  insight  into  the 
nature  and  operations  of  a  service,  which,  to  a  commercial  na- 
tion, like  our  own,  must  ever  be  the  most  important  arm  of 
protection  and  defence.  I  cannot  avoid  making  a  few  remarks 
upon  our  naval  system  before  taking  a  final  leave  of  it — and 
such  observations  as  I  make,  may  not  be  inappropriately  offered 
at  present,  when  our  Government,  after  a  long  and  culpable 
neglect  of  the  Navy,  seems  to  be  at  last  slowly  awaking  to  the 
necessity  of  reorganizing  it. 

Although  my  rank  of  acting  Maker's  Mate  rendered  mt 
liable  to  be  called  upon  at  any  time  to  discharge  the  duties 
usually  assigned  it,  it  imposed  upon  me  no  higher  obligation  in 
reality,  than  that  of  conforming  in  all  respects  to  the  etiquette 
of  the  service.  I  was  attached  to  the  corps  of  artists,  who  held 
the  same  rank,  and  were  especially  subject  to  the  Commodore's 
orders ;  and  when  not  employed  on  explorations — a  branch  of 
duty  of  which  I  was  never  weary— occupied  myself  with  mak- 
ing  sketches  of  birds,  flowers,  fish  and  landscapes,  and  with 
keeping  a  faithful  record  of  our  experiences.  The  fact  that  1 
messed  on  the  orlop  deck,  went  up  and  down  the  port  ladders, 
and  smoked  forward  of  the  main  shaft,  did  not  exclude  m€ 
from  the  hospitalities  of  the  warrl-room  acd  the  commanderr 
20 


458  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAFAW. 

oabins.  By  Commodore  Perry  and  Capt.  Buchanau*  especiallv 
r  was  treated  with  unvarying  kindness. 

The  only  ship's  duty  I  was  called  upon  to  perform,  besides 
'ating  charge  of  a  boat  now  and  then,  and  keeping  a  two-hour 
Fatch  in  Japan,  was  to  appear  in  my  station  at  "general  quar- 
ters," which  were  beaten  quite  frequently  previous  to  our  arri- 
val in  the  Bay  of  Yedo.  "  General  quarters,"  I  should  state 
for  the  information  of  the  landsman,  is  a  combination  of  a  re- 
view and  a  sham  fight.  Every  one  of  the  ship's  company 
has  his  place  assigned  to  him,  and  at  the  well-known  rappel, 
and  fife-call,  officers,  seamen,  mariners  and  boys  fall  into  their 
proper  places,  the  rolls  are  called,  and  the  formalities  of  a  na- 
val engagement  are  practised.  The  guns  are  run  in,  loaded, 
and  run  out  and  fired ;  the  seamen,  armed  with  cutlasses  and 
boarding  pikes,  trot  fore  and  aft,  crowding  the  rail  on  alternate 
bows  and  quarters,  to  repel  imaginary  boarders ;  the  marines, 
behind  them,  load  and  discharge  noiseless  volleys  in  rapid  suc- 
cession ;  the  bell  gives  the  signal  of  fire,  for  the  ship  has  been 
ignited  by  an  intangible  hot  shot ;  the  pumps  are  rigged,  and  by 
great  exertions  the  invisible  flames  are  extinguished — and,  last 
of  all,  the  hostile  flag  strikes,  and  the  band  plays  "  Yankee 
Doodle"  in  token  of  victory.  My  station  was  at  first  on  the 
orlop  deck,  over  the  magazine,  to  superintend  the  passing  up  of 
immaterial  powder-cans,  but  I  was  afterwards  transferred  to  the 
quarter-deck,  where  I  spent  the  hour  in  watching  the  perform- 
ance of  our  great  pivot-gun.  There  was  also  target  practice, 
idQ  which  the  officers  usually  joined,  and  I  was  struck  with  the 
large  proportion  of  good  shots  among  the  ship's  conrpany. 

Although  I  was  not  often  brought  into  direct  contact  with 
the  crew,  I  soon  made  acquaintance  with  them,  and  learned  tc 


FALSE    SYSTEM    OP    PROMOTION.  46^ 

tmderstand  and  appreciate  tlie  blunt,  hearty,  generous  sailoi 
character.  There  is  a  great  variety  of  elements  in  every  crew, 
but  the  good  and  bad  are  more  readily  known  than  in  any  so- 
ciety on  shore.  Dissimulation  is  soon  detected  on  shipboard, 
as  on  the  battle-field,  no  man  can  purchase  a  substitute  or  shift 
nis  duty  upon  other  shoulders  than  his  own.  Whatever  may  be 
the  faults  of  ccamen ,  they  are,  as  a  class,  honest,  open-hearted 
and  courageous — full  of  firm  masculine  fibre  and  a  healthy 
cheerfulness — and  I  confess  to  a  warm  attachment  for  them. 

It  is  a  serious  fact,  felt  even  more  keenly  by  those  in  tht 
service  than  by  the  public  at  large,  that  the  efficiency  of  our  Navy 
has  been  of  late  years  greatly  impaired,  and  that  it  is  no  longer 
animated  by  the  same  prompt,  active,  energetic  spirit,  which 
drew  into  its  ranks  some  of  the  boldest  and  bravest  characters 
which  adorn  our  history.  The  nature  of  the  service  is  such  as 
to  stimulate  and  keep  alive  the  ambition  of  those  enlisted  in 
it;  and  we  must  therefore  look  to  the  legislation  which  con- 
trols it,  for  the  cause  of  this  change.  The  two  prominent  evils 
under  which  the  Navy  now  labors  are,  a  relaxation  of  disci- 
pline among  the  men,  and  a  system  which,  among  the  officers, 
makes  promotion  dependent  entirely  upon  seniority,  and,  by 
rendering  null  any  amount  of  brilliant  service,  discourages  all 
manly  emulation. 

As  there  has  hitherto  been  no  retired  list,  the  officers  who 
are  incapacitated  by  age  or  disease,  or  any  other  cause,  from 
active  service,  hang  as  a  dead  weight  upon  the  chances  of  aU 
those  whose  term  of  service  is  less  than  theirs.  In  time  of 
peace,  their  ranks  are  continually  accumulating,  so  that  the 
number  allotted  to  each  grade  having  once  been  filled  up,  pro* 
uiotions  after  that  >3an  only  take  place  to  fill  th.e  vacanciei 


460  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

caused  by  death.  The  younger  officer,  therefore,  giows  old  in  ai 
inferior  rank,  and  by  the  time  he  is  invested  with  a  command 
having  passed  the  best  years  of  his  life  in  a  subordinate  posi 
tion,  is  naturally  timid  and  distrustful  of  himself  under  ro- 
ftponsibilities.  which  he  would  have  borne  lightly,  if  bestowed 
before  his  youthful  energy  and  ambition  were  wholly  deadened. 
This  very  energy  and  ambition  of  youth  constitutes  the  stamina 
of  naval  and  military  life,  and  that  service  will  inevitably  de- 
cay, which  does  not  extend  to  it  at  least  a  partial  encourage- 
ment. 

Under  the  system  at  present  pursued  by  the  Government, 
our  Navy  is  gradually  filling  up  with  Passed  Midshipmen  of 
thirty,  and  Lieutenants  of  forty-five,  while  an  officer  whose  hail 
is  not  entirely  gray  (if  indeed  he  has  any  left  to  show),  before 
attaining  the  rank  of  Post  Captain,  may  consider  himself 
especially  fortunate.  There  is  a  weight  of  invalided,  indolent, 
or  superannuated  material  above  him,  which  nothing  but  the 
slow  process  of  death  can  remove.  No  deed  of  daring,  no  bold 
achievement,  no  amount  of  hazardous  and  arduous  duty,  involv- 
mg  years  of  absence  from  all  the  amenities  of  civilized  life,  will 
advance  him  one  step  nearer  the  post,  which  terminates  the 
vista  of  his  ambition.  No  one  complained  of  the  efficiency  of 
the  Navy  when  Perry,  Decatur  and  Lawrence  were  Captains, 
at  an  age  when  no  Passed  Midshipman  is  now  rash  enough  to 
dream  of  a  Lieutenant's  commission.  Heroes  are  made  early ; 
and  the  English  and  French  Grovernments  acknowledge  the  fad 
by  promotmg  for  meritorious  conduct,  as  well  as  fcfr  length  of 
days.  Li  the  French  Navy,  I  believe,  one  third  of  the  promo- 
tions are  based  on  this  ground. 

A  retired  list,  such  as  has  recently  been  provided  for  by  ai 


HAEMONT  OP  GOVERNMENT  AT  SEA.  46i 

»ct  of  Congress,  will  partly  remedy  the  evil,  but  it  is  nol 
sufficient.  A  man  who  has  rendered  special  and  signal  ser- 
vice to  his  country  deserves  to  be  rewarded.  This  claim, 
which  is  partially  recognized  in  our  Army,  ought  to  have  equal 
weight  in  the  Navy.  Not  that  I  believe  that  in  cases  where 
the  honor  of  the  country  is  at  stake,  our  naval  officert  would 
be  found  wanting  in  courage  and  spirit,  but  the  prospect  of  re- 
ward would  keep  alive  an  active  pride  and  emulation,  which 
would  manifest  itself  at  all  times,  and  on  all  occasions.  Oui 
most  promising  officers  would  not  then  be  driven  to  resign  as 
they  are  now  by  the  disheartening  prospect  of  twenty  or  thirty 
years  of  subordinate  rank,  which  no  exertion  of  theirs  can  ren- 
der more  brief. 

It  is  impossible  that  such  a  state  of  things  should  not  tell 
upon  the  discipline  of  the  ship,  even  where  there  are  no  more 
direct  influences  at  work.  The  relations  in  which  all,  officers 
and  men,  stand  to  each  other,  on  board  of  a  man-of-war,  are  so 
intricate  and  so  nicely  adjusted,  that  a  derangement  in  any 
quarter  is  felt  throughout  the  whole  machine.  When  it  ope- 
rates in  perfect  harmony,  no  pyramid  could  be  more  symmetri- 
cal. But  if  the  Captain,  or  cap-stone  press  uncomfortably 
hard  on  the  layer  beneath  him,  the  pressure  makes  itself  felt 
through  all  the  courses  that  follow,  down  to  the  seamen — the 
broad  base  on  which  all  rest.  A  well-appointed  frigate, 
where  discipline  is  encouraged  by  duty,  and  authority  tern 
pered  by  justice,  is  to  me  the  crowning  miracle  of  social  go 
vernment. 

There  is  at  present  no  effective  system  of  punishment  foi 
ioinor  offences  on  board  our  men-of-war.  Congress,  by  taking 
Away  the  only  recognized   penalty,  that  of  corporeal  pimisb 


162  INDIA)    CHIHA,   AND   JAPAH. 

ment  without  fixing  any  legal  substitute  has  thrown  upon 
the  officers  the  responsibility  of  inventing  new  forms  of 
punishment,  which  shall  correct  the  faults  of  the  offender 
without  withdrawing  him  from  active  duty,  or  rendering 
the  officer  himself  liable  to  censure,  on  the  ground  of  in- 
human or  extraordinary  measures.  No  such  punishment  haa 
yet  been  discovered.  That  which  was  recommended  at  the 
time  flogging  was  abolished — solitary  confinement,  on  bread 
and  water — is  no  punishment  at  all  to  the  vicious  or  re- 
fractory seaman,  who  sees  in  it  an  excellent  opportunity  of 
skulking  from  work ;  while  the  other  plans  in  force — such  as 
carrying  a  sixty-eight  pound  shot,  standing  lashed  fast  in  one 
position  for  a  certain  number  of  hours,  &c.,  are  looked  upon 
as  a  kind  of  slow  torture,  and  in  many  cases  tend  to  exasperate 
still  further  a  nature  already  vicious.  Either  of  these  methods 
punishes  the  good  as  well  as  the  bad,  by  removing  the  offender 
from  his  work,  which  thus  falls  upon  the  honest  and  faithful  sea- 
men. The  good  men  who  are  never  punished,  are  rewarded  for 
their  fidelity  by  being  obliged  to  perform  more  than  their  share 
of  the  labor,  and  are  gradually  being  driven  out  of  the  service. 
I  have  heard  it  proposed  that  the  idle  and  insubordinate  shall 
be  mulcted  in  their  wages,  and  the  sums  thus  deducted  divided 
among  the  others.  I  am  correct  in  my  estimate  of  the  sailor 
character,  when  I  say  that  very  few  of  them  would  accept  such 
a  reward.  In  fact,  where  a  man  really  guilty  has  been  pun- 
ished by  the  loss  of  his  wages  for  a  number  of  months  the  en- 
tire crew  has  united  to  repay  him  the  loss.  Few  sailors  are 
destitute  of  a  sense  of  honor,  which  would  lead  them  to  spm-n 
the  taking  of  a  shipmate's  wages,  no  matter  how  culpable  thai 
shipmate  might  bci 


MISTAKEN    PHILANTHROPY.  46b 

No  deductions  can  be  drawn  from  tlie  experience  of  society 
on  shore  which  would  be  of  much  advantage  in  the  government 
of  a  ship  on  ihe  open  ocean,  cut  off  from  the  world,  and  a  world 
in  itself,  but  in  many  respects  of  a  very  different  order  from  that 
with  which  landsmen  are  acquainted.  Every  member  of  this 
world  has  his  appointed  station  and  his  regular  daily  duties. 
He  is  subject  to  inexorable  laws,  and  obedience  to  those  laws 
must  be  enforced  at  every  hazard  Without  entire  and  abso- 
lute subordination  a  navy  cannot  exist.  Its  character  is  neces- 
sarily despotic,  in  fact,  all  sea  life  is  so,  and  must  always  be 
60.  Its  government  demands  the  exercise  of  the  strictest  jus- 
tice, and  of  justice  to  all.  In  its  forms  of  punishment,  there- 
fore, that  which  most  effectually  preserves  discipline,  which 
corrects  the  guilty  without  throwing  an  additional  burden  on  the 
good,  is  the  most  expedient. 

Among  the  seamen  who  compose  the  crews  of  our  national 
vessels,  there  is  every  variety  of  character.  Men  as  brave, 
manly  and  g'enerous  as  any  class  can  afford,  there  are ;  in 
most  cases,  no  doubt,  the  major  part  of  the  crew  are  reputable 
in  their  conduct ;  but  there  is  always — at  least,  under  the  pre- 
sent system — a  leaven  of  depravity  and  sullen,  dogged  wicked- 
ness, which  will  bend  to  nothing  but  material  force.  I  have 
seen  so  frequently  the  inefficiency  of  the  other  methods  of  pun- 
ishment employed,  and  have  heard,  from  the  men  themselves, 
each  honest  desire  for  the  restoration  of  the  old  regime,  that  I 
cannot  avoid  the  conclusion  that  the  entire  abolition  of  cor- 
poreal punishment  in  the  Navy,  without  authorizing  some 
effective  substitute,  was  one  of  those  mistaken  acts  of  philan 
thropy  which  are  founded  on  abstract  ideas  of  humanity  rathei 
tban  a  practical  knowledge  of  human  nature.     It  has  morf 


464 


INDIA     CHINA,    Ain)    JAPAN. 


than  once  happened,  on  board  our  vessels,  that  the  seamen,  in 
defiance  of  authority,  have  seized  below  decks  and  soundly 
flogged  the  idle  and  vicious,  whom  all  other  punishments  had 
failed  to  intimidate. 

Mr.  Kennedy,  Ex-Secretary  of  the  >lavy,  in  one  of  his  An- 
nual Reports,  recommends  a  course  which  will  partly  remedy 
the  evil  by  drawing  into  the  service  a  better  class  of  men,  and 
thereby  rendering  punishments  of  all  kinds  less  frequent.  1 
allude  to  his  proposal  for  creating  a  class  of  "  registered 
seamen,"  who  shall  be  permanently  attached  to  the  Navy,  and 
receive  an  increased  rate  of  pay  with  every  five  years  of  their 
service.  The  high  wages  now  paid  to  sailors  in  the  mer- 
chant service  will  soon  render  the  adoption  of  some  such  plan 
necessary,  in  order  to  procure  seamen  at  all — notwithstanding 
the  superior  comforts  which  a  man-of-war  afibrds,  and  that 
representative  national  character  which  is  so  gratifying  to  the 
pride  of  an  American  tar.  There  are  many  noble  fellows 
among  our  seamen,  and  the  adoption  of  a  measure  like  Mr. 
Kennedy's,  which  would  retain  them  in  the  service  and 
identify  them  with  its  achievements,  would  go  far  toward 
restoring  that  energy  and  morale  which  once  made  our  crews 
the  finest  in  the  world.  I  am  too  proud  to  admit  that  they 
are  not  so  still ;  but  every  year  makes  the  difterence  between 
the  slackening  discipline  of  our  vessels,  and  the  perfect  and 
thorough  subordination  witnessed  in  the  English  Navy,  mor* 
painfully  perceptible. 

While  upon  this  theme  I  must  allude  to  another  circum- 
Btance  which  has  an  injurious  operation — at  least  upon  the 
vessels  attached  to  the  East  India  station,  and  I  have  no  doubt 
the  Pacific   and  African   stations  as   welL      I  allude  to  thfl 


SMALL  BTEAUEB8  NEEDED.  465 

xength  of  the  cruise.  Three  years  in  those  climates,  hot  and 
tmhealthy  as  they  are,  is  trying  to  any  constitution,  Tvhile  from 
the  absence  of  all  that  can  excite  or  amuse,  the  men  gradually 
become  spiritless  and  depressed.  So  far  removed  from  home, 
exposed  to  gross  sensual  temptations,  where  every  indulgence 
is  followed  by  a  terrific  penalty,  the  length  of  the  cruise  tends 
inevitably  to  demoralize  the  crew.  An  active  cruise  of  two 
years  would  accomplish  far  more  than  an  idle  one  of  three. 

What  is  needed  for  the  East  India  station  is  not  a  leviathan 
97ar-steamer  like  the  Susquehanna,  which  cannot  go  within 
thirty  miles  of  Ning-po  and  Foo-chow-foo,  and  can  barely  man- 
age to  reach  Shanghai,  but  two  small  steamers,  drawing  not 
more  than  twelve  or  fourteen  feet  of  water.  When  Canton  was 
menaced,  we  could  with  difficulty  get  a  store-ship  within  reach 
of  the  factories,  to  watch  over  the  interests  of  our  citizens.  If  a 
fleet  of  piratical  junks  was  hovering  about  the  Ladrone  Islands, 
and  one  of  our  big  vessels  attempted  to  follow,  they  were  off  at 
once  into  water  too  shallow  for  us.  The  small  English  steam- 
ers Hermes  and  Styx  did  more  in  this  way  for  the  security  of 
oommerce,  than  all  other  men-of-war  on  the  coast  collectively. 
20» 


CHAPTER    XXXTIII. 

MO  NO- KONG SOCIETY     IN     CHINA. 

■^x:? reasloas  of  Hong-Kong— A  Man  Drowned  at  Midnight — Hong-Koag  from  th« 
Water— The  town  of  Victorla^The  Island  of  Hong-Kong— The  Hong-Koi  g  Fever— 
Hospitality  of  Foreign  Residents  In  China— Their  Princely  Style  of  Living— Elgld 
Social  Etiquette — Balls— Tropical  Privileges — The  Anglo-Saxon  Abroad. 

My  first  impressions  of  Hong-Kong  were  not  very  favorable, 
but  I  attributed  them  partly  to  the  gloomy  March  weather 
which  prevailed  during  my  stay.  After  the  genial  quiet  of 
Macao,  and  the  mellow  historic  light  which  plays  about  its  de- 
caying palaces,  the  thoroughly  modern  air  and  desolate  sur- 
roundings of  the  place  became  still  more  distasteful  to  me,  and 
an  unfortunate  association  which  I  shall  never  be  able  wholly 
to  banish  from  memory,  increased  the  feeling  into  absolute  dis 
like. 

On  the  second  evening  after  our  arrival  I  went  ashore  wiih 
some  friends,  and  did  not  return  until  ten  o'clock.  My  cot 
was  not  yet  slung,  for  my  hammock-boy  was  one  of  the  crew 
of  the  Captain's  boat  which  had  also  gone  ashore.  He  was  a 
strong,  dark-eyed,  lusty  fellow  named  John  Williams — one  of 
the  maintopmen,  who  are  generally  the  picked  men  of  the 
ihip.     About  eleven  o'clock  Williams  made  his  appearance, 


A    MAN   DROWNED    Al    MIDNIGHT.  467 

with  m}^  cot,  which  he  slung  in  its  accustomed  place ;  but  in 
Btead  of  silently  going  forward  again,  as  was  his  wont,  he  turn- 
ed suddenly  and  asked  me  whether  I  thought  it  possible  that 
he  could  get  a  release  from  the  service.  His  mother,  he  said, 
had  died,  and  some  property  had  fallen  to  him  which  he  wished 
to  secure.  T  advised  him  to  consult  with  some  of  the  officers, 
who  were  better  acquainted  with  the  customs  of  the  service. 
He  seemed  to  labor  under  a  singular  depression  of  spirit,  and 
after  lingering  for  some  time  in  silence,  as  if  reluctant  to  turn 
away,  he  finally  said :  "  Well,  sir,  it  is  the  last  cruise  I  shall 
ever  make," — and  left  me. 

My  cot  was  slung  in  a  temporary  poop-cabin  on  deck,  which 
Commodore  Perry  had  ordered  to  be  erected  for  the  use  of  the 
artists.  I  had  not  slept  more  than  two  hours,  when  my  sleep 
was  suddenly  broken  by  a  cry — a  wild,  gurgling,  despairing 
cry  which  still  rings  in  my  ears  whenever  I  think  of  that  night. 
1  sprang  from  my  cot  and  listened.  There  was  a  trampling  of 
feet  on  the  deck  outside,  a  hurried  order,  "  cut  the  painter  1 " 
and  again  a  bubbling  cry,  but  feebler,  under  the  stern.  I 
sprang  to  one  of  the  windows,  looked  out,  and  saw  a  hand  beat- 
ing the  water  blindly  and  convulsively  in  the  eddy  of  the  rud- 
der. I  was  about  to  spring  out  when  a  coil  of  rope  fell  in  the 
water  and  the  hand  grasped  it.  A  horrible  phosphorefccnl 
light  shone  around  the  body,  struggling  beneath  the  surface 
Three  men  were  in  the  little  dingey  which  lay  under  the  stern, 
but  before  they  could  cut  the  painter,  the  hand  let  go  its  weak 
hold,  the  rope  slackened,  and  the  body  sank.  The  men  had  no 
oars,  but  half  drifting  with  the  tide,  half  paddling  with  theii 
hands,  they  floated  over  it.  Just  beyond — just  out  of  theii 
reach — a  head  rose  an  instant  to  the  surface  once  more,  mak 


468  INDIA,   CHINA,    AND   JAPAN. 

ing  a  ring  of  ghastly  light.  There  was  one  bubble,  and  it  sank 
forever,  the  phosphorescent  gleam  sinking  slowly  with  it,  nntii 
nothing  more  was  seen. 

The  drowned  man  was  no  other  than  John  Williams.  He 
had  the  mid-watch,  and  his  station  was  on  the  forward  guard 
of  the  star-board  paddle-box.  It  was  conjectured  that  he  had 
sat  down  upon  a  bucket  to  rest,  near  the  edge  of  the  guard,  and 
had  either  fallen  asleep  and  reeled  over,  or  lost  his  balance  by 
the  tilting  of  the  bucket.  One  of  the  cutters  was  moored  be- 
side the  paddle-box,  and  he  probably  struck  upon  it  and  dis- 
abled himself,  as  he  was  known  to  be  an  excellent  swimmer. 
Some  of  the  men  asserted  that  they  had  seen  a  large  fish  dart 
past  just  before  he  let  go  his  hold  of  the  rope,  and  supposed 
that  he  had  been  carried  under  by  a  shark.  His  body  was 
found  however  two  or  three  weeks  afterwards  unmutilated,  and 
was  placed  in  the  cemetery  at  Houg-Kong,  where  a  tomb-stone 
was  erected  over  it  by  his  messmates.  I  have  seen  death  in 
many  shapes,  but  there  was  an  awful  fatality  about  this  which 
shocked  me  profoundly.  Night  and  day  I  heard  the  terrible 
drowning  cry,  until  I  feared  that  my  ear  would  never  lose  the 
consciousness  of  it.  Nearly  a  month  afterwards,  I  again  visited 
Hong-Kong,  and  having  been  rowed  ashore  from  the  steamer, 
in  the  dusk  of  evening,  the  oars  struck  a  phosphorescent  lustre 
from  the  water ;  I  grew  deathly  sick  at  the  image  which  those 
gleams  recalled. 

It  is,  therefore,  if  not  my  fault,  at  least  my  misfortune, 
that  I  cannot  endorse  the  praises  of  Hong-Kong,  which  its 
residents  are  accustomed  to  bestow  upon  it.  Seen  from  the 
water,  the  town,  stretching  for  a  mile  along  the  shore,  at  the 
foot  of  Victoria  Peak,  whose  granite  cliff  towers  eighteen  him- 


HONG-KONG    FROM    THE    WATER.  46fi 

dred  feet  above,  bears  considerable  resemblance  to  Gibraltar 
The  Governor's  mansion,  the  Bishop's  Palace,  the  Church  and 
Barracks  occupy  conspicuous  positions,  and  the  houses  of  mer- 
chants and  government  officials,  scattered  along  the  steep  sides 
of  the  hill,  give  the  place  an  opulent  and  flourishing  air.  So 
far  from  being  disappointed  in  this  respect,  one  is  surprised  to 
find  that  ten  years  of  English  occupation  have  sufficed  to  civi- 
lize so  completely  a  barren  Chinese  island. 

The  town  is  almost  entirely  made  up  of  the  long  street 
called  Victoria  Road,  which  runs  parallel  to  the  shore.  It  is 
broad,  well  built  and  well  paved,  and  being  the  great  thorough- 
fare of  the  place,  lengthening  into  a  military  road  which 
makes  the  circuit  of  the  island,  has  at  all  times  a  busy  and  an 
imated  air.  The  streets  which  cross  it  strike  directly  up  the 
hill,  and  are  in  many  places  so  steep  that  it  has  been  found 
necessary  to  turn  them  into  flights  of  steps.  The  gray  granite 
of  which  the  island  is  composed  furnishes  excellent  material  for 
building  purposes,  and  is  extensively  employed  in  the  houses, 
streets  and  piers.  Large  quantities  of  it,  dressed  in  the  quar- 
ries by  Chinese  laborers,  are  shipped  to  San  Francisco- 
where  it  is  in  great  demand.  Several  entire  buildings  have 
been  sent  over  and  erected  in  that  city.  The  English  Church 
is  a  large  Gothic  building,  without  any  pretensions  to  architec- 
tural beauty.  On  a  natural  platform  above  it,  stands  the 
palace  of  Bishop  Smith — a  long  mansion  in  the  Elizabethan 
style.  The  Governor's  new  residence  was  in  the  course  of  con- 
struction, and  not  sufficiently  advanced  to  hint  at  its  char 
acter. 

The  island  of  Hong-Kong  is  about  thirty  miles  in  circum- 
ference, and  consists  of  a  desolate  cluster  of  mountains,  whioh 


470  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

ofFer  no  opportunity  of  cultivation.     Nearly  all  the  frait  and 

vegetables  consumed  in  the  town  come  from  Macao.  There  it 
a  small  village,  inhabited  by  Chinese  fishermen,  on  the  south 
ern  side^  and  a  Military  Hospital  on  the  east,  looking  upon 
the  Lymoon  Passage,  which  opens  into  the  China  Sea  j  but  the 
English  colony  is  concentrated  in  and  about  the  town  of  Vio 
toria,  which  is  built  on  the  northern  side,  facing  the  mainland 
The  harbor  is  spacious,  with  a  good  anchorage,  and  well  shel- 
tered, except  in  case  of  an  unusually  violent  typhoon.  From 
the  position  of  the  town,  it  is  cut  off  from  the  south-west  mon- 
soon in  summer,  while  the  vapors  collected  by  the  mountain 
contribute  to  produce  an  intense  moist  heat,  which  occasions 
violent  fever.  The  "  Hong-Kong  fever,"  as  it  is  called,  has 
been  described  by  some  facetious  traveller  as  combining  the 
worst  symptoms  of  cholera,  yellow  and  typhus  fevers,  with  other 
and  worse  features  of  its  own.  The  mortality  among  the 
troops  stationed  here  was  formerly  very  great,  but  it  has  been 
lessened  of  late  years  by  the  adoption  of  stringent  sanitary 
measures. 

For  amusements,  besides  riding,  boating,  yacht  regattas, 
&c.,  there  is  a  club,  with  a  library,  reading  and  billiard  rooms, 
and  a  bowling-alley,  much  frequented  by  Americans.  The  so- 
ciety is  not  extensive,  but  intelligent  and  agreeable.,  and  the 
same  lordly  hospitality,  with  which  I  first  became  acquainted 
io  India,  prevails  not  only  here  but  throughout  all  the  foreign 
communities  in  China.  This  custom  originated  long  ago,  in 
the  isolation  to  which  the  foreign  merchant  was  condemned, 
and  the  iufrequency  of  visitors  from  the  distant  world,  which 
he  had  temporarily  renounced.  Then  all  houses  were  opec 
to   the   guest,   and    the  luxury   which  had  been   created  tc 


PRINCELY    STYLE    OF    LIVING  471 

soften  the  gilded  exile,  was  placed  at  his  command.  The  es- 
tablishment of  steamship  lines,  the  building  of  hotels  and  othei 
progressive  agencies,  have  somewhat  moderated  this  liberality, 
and  may  in  time  reduce  it  to  the  cautious  and  guarded  hos- 
pitality of  home ;  but  there  is  still  enough  of  the  old  genial 
spirit  left  to  make  a  stranger  feel  satisfied  with  the  welcome 
he  receives. 

I  doubt  if  there  be  another  class  of  men,  who  live  in  more 
luxurious  state  than  the  foreign  residents  in  China.  Their 
households  are  conducted  on  a  princely  scale,  and  whatever 
can  be  had  in  the  way  of  furniture,  upholstery  or  domestic  ap 
pliances  of  any  sort,  to  promote  ease  and  comfort,  is  sure  to  be 
found  in  their  dwellings.  Their  tables  are  supplied  with  the 
choicest  which  the  country  can  afford,  and  a  retinue  of  well- 
drilled  servants,  whose  only  business  it  is  to  study  their  habits, 
anticipate  all  their  wants.  All  the  management  of  the  house- 
hold is  in  the  hands  of  native  servants.  The  "  comprador  " 
furnishes  the  necessary  supplies — for  which  he  generally  ob- 
tains a  fat  commission — the  butler  regulates  the  internal 
economy ;  and  every  inmate  has  one  or  more  personal  servants, 
who  have  charge  of  his  own  private  wants.  The  expense  of 
keeping  up  such  an  establishment  is  of  course  very  large ;  but 
BO  also  are  the  profits  of  a  flourishing  commercial  house,  and 
this  easeful  and  luxurious  mode  of  life,  while  it  tends  to  pre- 
serve health  in  a  climate  hostile  to  the  Northern  race,  furnishes 
a  solace,  sensuous  though  it  be,  for  the  want  of  those  more  en- 
lightened recreations  which  a  civilized  land  affords. 

These  little  communities,  nevertheless,  arc  subject  to  iron 
laws  of  etiquette,  any  infraction  whereof,  either  purposely  oi 
through  ignorance,  makes  society  tremble  to  its  foundatioas.    A 


i72  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN 

custom  which  refers  particularly  to  strangers,  has  been  trani 
planted  thither  from  India,  and  is  now  in  full  force.  The  newly 
arrived,  unless  he  wish*^s  to  avoid  all  society,  must  go  the  rounds 
of  the  resident  families,  and  make  his  calls.  The  calls  are  re- 
turned, an  invitation  to  dinner  follows  in  due  course  of  time, 
and  every  thing  is  en  train  for  a  footing  of  familiar  intercourse 
This  custom  seems  to  me  to  reverse  the  natural  course  of  so 
cial  ethics.  It  obliges  the  stranger  to  seek  his  welcome,  in- 
stead of  having  it  spontaneously  tendered  to  him.  The  resi 
dents  defend  the  practice,  on  the  ground  that  it  allows  a  man 
to  choose  his  own  society — an  obvious  bull,  since  he  cannot 
know  who  are  congenial  to  him  until  he  has  met  them ;  and  on 
the  other  hand,  the  opposite  course  would  allow  them  to  choose 
his  society  or  not,  as  they  preferred.  In  India,  among  the 
Company's  servants,  the  rule  is  rigidly  enforced,  and  nothing 
creates  greater  scandal  than  a  violation  of  it. 

There  are  private  balls  occasionally — public,  rarely,  if  ever 
-  -where  quadrilles,  and  waltzes,  and  polkas,  are  danced  with  as 
much  spirit  as  at  any  outside  the  Tropics ;  but  there  is  a 
considerate  departure  from  the  etiquette  of  the  North,  in  allow- 
ing the  gentlemen  to  appear,  on  such  occasions,  in  a  white 
linen  jacket,  and  with  a  simple  ribbon  in  place  of  a  cravat. 
Nay,  if  so  minded,  he  may  even  throw  wide  his  collar,  and 
enjoy  a  cool  throat.  This  barbarism — as  every  young  lady  of 
proper  taste  must  consider  it — I  find  highly  commendable 
But  it  requires  a  great  struggle  in  John  Bull  to  throw  down 
those  starched  barricades  which  flank  his  closely-rasped  chin 
and  protect  his  mutton-chop  whiskers.  In  Calcutta,  even  in 
the  dog-days,  nothing  less  than  a  collar  rigid  as  plank,  and  a 
black  cloth  dress-coat,  is  tolerated.     Verily,  the  Saxon  clings 


THE   ANGLO-SAXON    ABROAD. 


473 


to  his  idols  with  a  pertinacity  which  we  cannot  snfficientl}! 
admire.  Make  a  certain  costume  the  type  of  respectability 
with  him,  and  he  carries  the  idea  all  over  the  world.  If  bear- 
skins and  woollen  blankets  were  the  evening  costume  of  the 
West-End  or  Fifth-Avenue,  you  would  soon  find  him  com- 
placently sporting  them  on  the  Equator.  In  the  incessant 
heat  of  the  Tropics  he  drinks  his  heavy  sherry,  and  indulges 
in  his  brandy-and-water,  with  as  much  freedom  as  in  the  airs 
of  England,  and  if  not  cut  short  in  his  career  by  fever,  finally 
goes  home  with  a  damaged  liver  and  no  digestion  at  all.  On 
the  shores  of  Cathay,  he  keeps  up  the  hours  and  habits  of  the 
London  season  ;  in  the  cinnamon  groves  of  Ceylon,  he  breatht^ 
the  atmosphere  of  Pail-Mall. 


CHAPTER    XXXIX. 

A    PICTURE    OF    MACAO. 

KovQmentB  of  tbe  Sqnadron— Cnmslngmoon— The  Naval  Hospital  at  Ma(»o--QuieJ 
Late— A  Chinese  Beggar— The  Band— The  Memories  of  Macao— Situation  of  the 
Town— Its  Appearance— Desertion  of  the  Place— Its  Tropical  Gardens — The  Oana 
po— The  Temple  of  Wang  Hy&— Anecdote  of  Cashing— Society  In  Macao— Chinese 
All-Sonls'  Day— Discordant  Noises— The  Grotto  of  Camoens— The  Casa  Gardens— 
The  Grotto  at  Daybreak— French  Irreverence — Preparations  to  Eetam  Home— 
LeavUig  the  Naval  Service— Trips  to  Hong-Kong  and  Cumslngmoon. 

We  remained  but  two  or  tliree  days  at  Hong-Kong :  the  season 
of  typhoons  was  at  lirmd,  and  it  was  considered  advisable  to 
place  the  squadron  in  some  more  sheltered  anchorage.  The 
Mississippi  proceeded  to  Blenheim  Reach,  near  Whampoa, 
where  part  of  tlie  British  East  India  Squadron  was  already 
anchored ;  the  Susquehanna,  after  touching  at  Macao,  to  land 
Commodore  Perry,  was  ordered  to  Cumsingmoon,  about  fifteen 
miles  further  to  the  north.  This  is  merely  a  small  Chinese  vil- 
lage, on  an  island  of  the  same  name,  with  the  advantages  of  a 
sheltered  anchorage  in  front  of  it,  a  healthy  air  and  good  water. 
The  hills  are  bare  and  bleak  in  aspect,  and  no  place  could  well 
be  more  forlorn,  as  a  sojourn.  After  four  days.  However,  the 
Brtists  corps  received  notice  that  rooms  had  been  appropriated 


<^UIET    LIFE.  475 

M)  tbein  in  a  building  in  Macao,  which  had  been  leased  as  a 
Naval  Hospital.  A  Portuguese  lorcha  was  dispatched  to  carrj 
us  and  our  baggage  to  the  city,  and  we  took  leave  of  the  good 
old  Susquehanna.  We  had  a  slow  but  agreeable  run  down  the 
coast,  anchored  in  the  inner  harbor  of  Macao,  and  before  night 
were  fully  installed  in  our  new  quarters. 

The  Naval  Hospital  stood  upon  the  central  ridge  of  the 
island,  and  was  consequently  in  the  highest  part  of  the  city, 
overlooking  the  broad  Canton  Gulf  on  one  side,  and  on  the 
other  the  tiled  roofs  of  the  Portuguese  houses  below,  the  inner 
harbor,  with  its  scanty  fleet  of  junks,  lorches  and  iauka  boats, 
and  the  bare,  stony  hills  of  the  island  beyond.  In  front  rose  a 
hill,  with  a  deserted  convent  on  its  summit  glowing  in  the  broad 
white  glare  of  the  breathless  August  noons.  The  lower  story 
of  th^  Hospital  was  appropriated  to  the  invalids,  of  whom 
there  were  about  twenty,  and  the  Commodore's  band ;  the  sur- 
geons and  artists  occupie  1  the  rooms  above.  With  A-fok  aa 
steward,  and  the  market  of  Macao  at  hand,  rich  in  fruit  and 
vegetables,  we  fared  rather  better  than  on  ship's  rations  and 
tough  Japanese  fowls,  while  the  enclosed  verandah,  on 
account  of  its  airiness,  furnished  admirable  sleeping  accommo- 
dations during  the  dog-days.  The  time  passed  on  quietly  and 
without  particular  incident,  and  T  found  the  repose  of  our  life 
very  grateful,  after  the  active  experiences  and  vicissitudes  of 
the  past  year.  There  was  no  serious  duty  to  interfere  with  the 
indulgence  of  that  tropical  indolence,  which  is  such  a  luxury 
after  the  fatigue  of  travel. 

Our  principal  annoyance  was  an  old  Chinese  beggar-woman 
who  sometimes  drove  us  to  desperaticn  with  her  piercing,  mo- 
Qotonous  wail,  from  her  station  in  the  shade  of  the  house  oppo 


i7n  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

site,  and  no  amount  of  "  cash"  (the  cheapest  alms  in  the  wo  d, 
would  drive  her  away  She  would  then  only  howl  the  n  are 
pertinaciously  for  more.  Nothing  could  have  been  more  trying 
to  the  nerves  than  her  eternal :  "  Chin-chin — a — a — a  I  poor 
man — a — a  /  how  kin  do — a — a — a  /  "  But  twice  a  day  our 
fine  brass  band  of  twenty  instruments  rehearsed  in  the  long  hall 
below,  usually  commencing  with  the  ringing  chant  of  the  Por- 
tuguese National  Hymn.  The  old  beggar  then  retired  from 
the  field  in  confusion.  A  few  tawny  Portuguese,  with  close- 
cropped,  blue-black  hair,  would  sometimes  pause  to  listen  aa 
they  passed  through  the  almost  deserted  streets.  The  music 
awoke  no  chord  of  patriotism  or  pride  in  their  breasts ;  Macao 
has  ont-lived  even  that.  The  strain  ceased,  and  then  the  rich, 
lyrical  throb  of  "  Hail  Columbia"  would  rise  exultingly  into 
the  still  blue  air,  while  the  stars  and  stripes  hung  motionless 
from  the  peak  of  the  flag-staff,  at  the  American  Consulate 
below  us.  Though  I  heard  our  country's  anthem  every  day,  my 
heart  beat  more  quick  and  warm  under  all  that  summer  languor, 
and  my  thoughts  would  turn  for  a  moment  to  the  dear  land  on 
the  other  side  of  the  world. 

I  prefer  Macao  to  any  other  place  in  China,  partly  on 
account  of  the  picturesque  beauty  of  its  position,  and  partly 
because  it  is  less  Chinese.  It  has  a  history  which  attaches  it 
to  the  history  of  our  race;  it  has  human  associations  with 
which  we  can  sympathize.  The  annals  of  the  Ming  and  the 
Hang  dynasties  are  no  more  to  me  (with  the  exception  of  the 
reign  of  that  splendid  invader,  Kublai  Khan,)  than  those  of 
the  Man  in  the  Moon ;  but  the  memories  of  Camoens,  the  Poet, 
and  St.  Francis  Xavier,  the  Apostle,  embalm  Maca )  for  ever  11 
the  eyes  of  the  European  race.     It  was  the  first  beacon  whence 


VIBW   OF   THE   CITY.  477 

the  light  of  Christianity  and  the  liberalizing  influenced  of  coin 
tnerce  went  forth  into  the  dark  places  of  the  East.  And  no\\' 
useless  and  worn  out  as  it  seems,  with  its  commerce  destroyed, 
its  palaces  vacant,  its  grandees  beggared,  and  its  importance  aa 
a  foothold  of  civilization  totally  gone,  there  is  a  mournful 
charm  in  the  silence  of  its  grass-grown  streets,  and  the  memory 
of  its  former  power  and  opulence  still  clothes  it  with  a  shadowy 
dignity.  Here,  at  least,  there  are  traces  of  Art  and  Taste,  and 
all  those  monstrosities  of  Chinese  CT/i-taste,  which  would  make 
China  a  living  purgatory  to  any  one  with  a  keen  appreciation 
of  the  Beautiful,  are  thrust  into  the  background,  and  do  not 
spoil  the  harmony  of  the  picture. 

The  Portuguese  settlement  of  Macao  comprises  a  ridgy 
peninsula  about  four  miles  long,  attached  to  the  southern  end 
of  a  large  Chinese  island,  by  a  narrow,  sandy  neck,  across 
which  a  wall  was  thrown  in  the  early  d^ys  of  the  colony.  The 
city  is  built  in  a  dip  of  the  hills,  near  the  extremity  of  the  penin 
sola,  and  to  the  east  faces  the  Roads,  the  usual  anchorage  oi 
foreign  shipping.  It  has  another  face  on  the  west,  looking  upou 
tlie  Inner  Harbor,  a  narrow  strait  shut  in  by  lofty  islands 
Another  channel,  called  the  Typa,  between  two  barren  islands, 
about  a  mile  and  a  half  to  the  southward,  is  the  usual  anchorajre 
of  vessels  during  the  typhoon  season,  on  account  of  its  shel- 
tered situation.  The  view  of  the  city  from  the  Roads  is  very 
imposing,  and  with  the  island-mountains  in  the  background,  has 
been  compared  by  many  persons- to  that  of  Naples  from  the 
bay,  but  I  could  see  scarcely  a  single  point  of  resemblance 
A  crescent-shaped  bay,  nearly  a  mile  in  length,  fronts  the 
^ater,  and  behind  the  massive  stone  pier,  or  Praya,  rises  a  row 
of  stately  buildings  of  a  pale  yellow  or  pink  color.     The  foliag* 


478  INDIA,   CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

of  tropical  gardens  peeps  out  beliind  them,  and  tlie  ridge  is 
crowned  with  the  square-towered  Cathedral  and  several 
churches.  At  the  northern  point  is  an  Alameda,  or  public 
square,  planted  with  trees,  above  which  rises  a  fortress.  Fur 
ther  to  the  north,  on  the  top  of  a  lofty  hill,  is  the  Fort  of  Guia 
or  Del  Monte,  and  a  larger  but  somewhat  dismantled  fortifica 
fcion  looms  behind,  on  the  middle  ridge  of  the  peninsula. 

Even  before  landing,  one  notes  the  deserted  aspect  of  the 
place.  There  are  no  crowds  on  the  Praya ;  the  houses  have  a 
decaying,  mouldy  appearance,  and  you  listen  in  vain  for  thai 
hum  of  life  which  floats  about  the  centres  of  trade  or  industry. 
The  solitary  sentry  at  the  foot  of  the  Portuguese  flag-staflf 
seems  to  be  dozing  at  his  post.  Now  and  then  some  Chinese 
porters  pass,  or  four  servants  carrying  a  sedan  chair  with  all 
the  blinds  down.  During  the  summer,  when  most  of  the  foreign 
merchants  in  Canton  send  their  families  there,  on  account  of 
the  temperate  sea  air,  many  of  the  spacious  old  mansions  are 
inhabited,  and  servants  with  impudent  faces  lounge  about  the 
open  gateways.  Were  it  not  for  the  scanty  revenue  which  they 
derive  from  the  lease  of  their  ancestral  palaces,  many  of  the 
old  Portuguese  families  would  be  entirely  destitute.  Indeed, 
it  is  already  a  mystery  how  some  of  them  contrive  to  exist. 
Piece  by  piece  the  old  plate,  and  diamond  by  diamond  the  old 
jewels  are  sold,  while  the  parsimony  of  the  household  belies 
the  appearance  of  wealth  which  still  lingers  about  the  massive 
buildings  and  the  luxuriant  gardens. 

These  fine  old  gardens  are  the  greatest  ornament  of  the  city, 
hiding  its  dilapidation,  and  recalling,  in  the  care  and  taste 
which  they  have  not  wholly  outgrown,  those  which  adorn  the 
cities  of  Southern  Spain.     Although  the  winters  are  wet  and 


THE  CAMFO.  479 

oold,  all  the  hardier  varieties  of  tropical  fruits  thrive  well,  and 
even  the  mango,  the  papaya  and  the  gnava  are  found  in  the 
markets.  On  the  garden-terraces,  in  the  upper  part  of  the 
city,  whence  you  have  a  charming  panorama  of  the  island-stud- 
ded gulf,  the  spiry  cypress  and  the  orange  of  Portugal  miuglf» 
their  foliage  with  the  palm,  the  bamboo  and  the  Indian  banyan 
In  August,  the  high  walls  which  enclose  them  are  festooned 
with  enormous  masses  of  the  night-blooming  cereus,  whose 
milky  blossoms,  a  foot  in  diameter,  diffuse  a  sweet  and  powerful 
odor.  Around  the  fountains  the  sacred  lotus  opens  its  sunnj 
cup,  tipped  with  as  pure  a  rose  as  summer  daybreak  can  show 
The  lagistrwmia,  with  its  soft,  crape-like  racemes  of  white  or 
crimson,  and  the  burning  scarlet  of  the  pomegranate  flower,  star 
the  deep  green  masses  of  foliage.  Nature  is  always  luxurious 
within  the  Tropics. 

Two  gates  in  the  northern  wall  of  the  city  lead  to  what  ia 
called  the  Campo — an  open,  cultivated  tract  of  country  sepa- 
rated by  a  bleak  ridge  from  the  sandy  flat  which  divides  the 
Portuguese  territories  from  the  Chinese.  The  Campo  is  tra- 
versed by  an  excellent  road,  uniting  with  a  new  one  which  has 
been  cut  along  the  face  of  the  bluffs  on  the  eastern  side  of  the 
island.  The  two  combined  form  an  agreeable  drive,  and  every 
evening  towards  sunset,  all  who  possess  or  are  rich  enough  to 
hire  a  horse  or  equipage,  may  be  seen  taking  their  way  along  the 
Praya  to  the  Alameda,  and  thence  striking  out  on  the  course  of 
the  Campo.  This  drive  of  three  or  four  miles,  with  a  gallop 
over  the  sands  to  the  Chinese  barrier,  is  a  grateful  release  to 
the  Canton  merchant,  and  iia  comparison  with  the  confinement 
rf  his  hongs,  the  Campo  appears  as  boundless  and  as  free  as  an 
Illinois  prairie.     The  fort  of  Gruia,  with  a  ^tcep  zigzag  path 


480  INDIA,   CHINA,   AND   JAPAN. 

leading  up  to  its  battlements,  towers  high  over  it,  on  the  east 

on  the  opposite  side  the  Chinese  village  of  Wang-Hya,  lies  em 
bedded  in  bamboo  and  Indian  fig-trees ;  over  a  level  covered 
with  rice-fields  and  vegetable  gardens,  stretches  a  wide  blue 
arm  of  the  bay,  and  the  mountains  of  the  western  island  leaa 
«4way  to  the  south,  disclosing  other  channels  and  other  islands 
beyond. 

I  paid  a  visit  to  "Wang-Hya  (or  in  the  Macao  dialect, 
Mong-ha),  which  gives  its  name  to  the  treaty  concluded  between 
the  United  States  and  China,  under  the  auspices  of  our  great 
mandarin  Gushing  (Coo-Shmg,  a  genuine  Chinese  name),  and 
the  Commissioner  Keying.  The  signing  of  this  treaty  and  the 
festivities  consequent  thereupon,  took  place  in  the  great  tem- 
ple of  WarQg-Hya — a  large  building  of  gray  granite,  rather 
more  simple  and  tasteful  in  its  architecture  than  Chinese  tem- 
ples usually  are.  In  fact,  but  for  the  enormous  misshapen 
gods,  glaring  all  over  with  vermillion  and  gilding,  those  mas- 
sive courts  and  heavy,  overhanging  roofs,  shaded  by  the  broad 
arms  of  several  giant  Indian  fig-trees,  would  afibrd  a  very 
pleasing  picture.  There  is  a  Macao  legend  to  the  efi"ect  that, 
when  Cushing  went  out  in  state  to  meet  Keying,  he  was  at- 
tended by  the  Portuguese  band  belonging  to  the  Governor,  and 
that  the  drum-major  of  the  band  made  such  an  impression  upon 
the  Chinese  authorities  by  his  portly  size,  and  the  glitter  of  his 
ull-dress  uniform,  that  they  imagined  him  to  be  the  American 
mandarin,  and  wasted  several  profound  salutations  upon  him 
before  the  mistake  was  discovered. 

As  for  amusements  in  Macao,  there  were  none  except  the 
daily  stroll  on  the  Praya  and  ride  in  the  Campo,  with  an  occa- 
sional dinner  or  dance.     The  Governor,  Senhor  Guimaraes,  was 


CHIHESE   ALL    SOUL's   DAI.  481 

ail  urbane  and  polished  gentleman,  and  entertained  frequently 
and  there  were  a  few  Portuguese  families  who  still  kept  up 
something  of  the  old  state.  The  theatre,  a  reminiscence  of 
the  palmy  days  of  Macao,  had  long  been  closed,  but  was  again 
opened  for  a  concert  given  by  our  band,  who  made  Macao  ring 
with  such  music  as  had  not  been  heard  for  years.  The  bugle 
players  belonging  to  the  Portuguese  garrison  are  very  fine,  but 
the  Governor's  band  would  scarcely  be  tolerated  any  where 
else.  By  the  Commodore's  permission,  our  band  performed  on 
the  Alameda  every  Thursday  evening,  and  all  Macao  weni 
there  in  the  moonlight  to  look  upon  the  sparkling  bay,  and  drink, 
with  thirsty  ears,  the  sweet  strains. 

During  my  stay,  the  Chinese  residents  celebrated  their  great 
religious  festival — a  sort  of  All  Soul's  Day,  or  worship  paid  col- 
lectively to  all  the  gods  and  saints  in  their  mythology,  their  own 
ancestors  included.  It  is  a  convenient  way  of  lumping  together 
a  number  of  minor  worships,  and  wiping  out  with  one  grand 
stroke  the  delinquencies  of  the  year ;  and  the  essence  of  the 
Chinese  religion  not  being  love  of  God,  but  fear  of  the  devil, 
they  manage  to  propitiate  their  neglected  Satans  by  a  terrific 
thumping  of  tom-toms,  and  a  fizzle  and  splutter  of  fireworks, 
which  lasts  three  days.  On  the  occasion,  they  constructed  a 
large  framework  on  the  Praya,  which  was  covered  with  mus- 
lins, silks,  and  spangled  paper,  so  as  to  represent  the  shrine  of 
a  temple.  It  was  about  15  feet  high,  by  30  in  length,  and 
hung  with  lamps  of  every  quality  and  fashion,  from  Bohemian 
ciystal  to  horn  and  mica.  A  variety  of  hideous  divinities,  with 
^»lack  or  copper-colored  faces,  squatted  on  shrines  or  stood  stiflj 
erect  in  niches;  and  in  a  recess  at  one  end,  three  or  four  noisi 
tians  made  an  infernal  din  with  gongs,  tom-toms  and  lon^  hoi 
21 


482  INDIA,  jhina,  and  japan. 

low  bamboos  which  emitted  shiieks  that  made  your  uei\es 
quiver.  I  doubt  if  the  word  "  harmony  "  is  to  be  found  in  the 
Chinese  language.  Not  even  the  sense  of  a  rhythm  could  be 
extracted  from  the  dreadful  discord,  but  each  instrument  of 
torture  raved  in  its  own  way,  regardless  of  the  others.  What 
must  be  the  nature  of  those  who  take  delight  in  such  sounds  ? 

The  loveliest  spot  in  Macao  is  the  garden  and  grotto  of 
Camoens,  and  thither  the  stranger  first  turns  his  steps.  Dui 
ing  my  first  visit  there,  in  March,  it  was  the  only  thing  I  saw 
The  Susquehanna  was  to  leave  for  Shanghai  early  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  as  there  was  a  chance  that  I  might  not  return,  I  suc- 
ceeded, with  much  difficulty,  in  making  the  swarthy  landlord  of 
the  "  National  Hotel  "  comprehend  what  it  was  that  I  wanted 
to  see.  He  called  me  before  daybreak,  and  gave  me  an  old 
Chinaman  as  guide  to  the  place.  We  threaded  a  nurabei  of 
crooked  streets  in  the  dusk,  passed  the  faqade  of  an  eminent 
Jesuit  church,  which  was  destroyed  by  fire,  and  at  length 
reached  a  little  grassy  square  on  the  hill,  in  the  north-western 
corner  of  the  city.  By  dint  of  knocking  and  calling,  my  guide 
aroused  a  sleepy  serv^ant,  who  opened  agate  and  admitted  me 
mto  a  trim  parterre,  redolent  of  rose  and  jessamine,  and  open- 
ing into  a  deep  garden,  wherein  the  shadows  still  lingered 
thick  and  dark  under  the  trees.  A  large  and  stately  mansion 
now  occupies  the  site  of  the  Franciscan  Convent  in  which 
Camoens  lived.  The  property  belongs  to  Count  Salvi,  who  has 
offered  it  for  sale,  for  the  sum  of  $5,000,  without  finding  a 
r^irehaser. 

I  took  my  way  at  random  through  the  garden,  seeking,  in 
the  gray  morning  twilight,  for  the  grotto  whose  shelter  gave 
birtl)   to  the   "  Lusiad.''     It  was  a  wilderness  of  large  trees 


AN   BXILED    POET.  488 

made  still  more  intricate  in  some  places  by  a  thick  under- 
growth,  and  the  rank  parasitic  vines  which  clung  from  bough 
to  bough.  It  followed  the  slope  of  the  hill,  terraced  here  and 
there,  while  the  highest  part  was  overhung  by  immense  granite 
boulders,  heaped  one  upon  the  other,  till  the  topmost  masses 
towered  above  the  trees.  I  found  an  aviary  with  a  dead  tree 
in  it,  showing  that  birds  had  once  been  there;  a  fountain,  dry 
and  cracking  to  pieces ;  and  finally,  noticing  a  small  chapel 
reared  upon  a  rock  in  the  thickest  part  of  the  wood,  was  led  to 
the  object  of  my  search.  The  grotto  is  simply  a  natural  portal 
formed  by  three  great  boulders  of  grey  granite,  within  whose 
arch  the  poet  found  shade  and  coolness  and  privacy.  It  is  not 
a  cayern  of  Jeremiah,  to  feed  austere  thoughts  and  gloomy 
prophecies,  but  a  grotto  just  too  stern  not  to  be  Arcadian  and 
idyllic.  The  portal  is  now  closed  at  each  end  by  an  iron  grat- 
ing, and  within  it  stands  a  bronze  bust  of  the  poet,  elevated  on 
a  lofty  pedestal,  containing  three  stanzas  from  the  Lusiad,  in 
bronze  letters.  The  dawn  gradually  brightened,  as  I  stood 
beside  tlie  grating;  the  darkness  under  the  trees  faded  into 
twilight,  but  the  features  of  the  poet  were  not  discernible  in  the 
gloom  which  filled  the  recess.  Fit  monument  to  him,  who 
turned  into  glory  the  shame  of  banishment  and  the  sorrow  of 
exile — who  made  the  power  and  the  injustice  of  the  land  that 
gave  him  birth  alike  immortal  1 

I  frequently  went  there  afterwards  by  daylight,  but  the 
genus  loci  was  less  distinct  and  impressive  than  in  that  silent 
morning  hour.  The  Chevalier  di"  Rienzi,  a  Frenchman  who 
Btyles  himself,  "  poete  exile,"  has  had  a  tablet  cut  upon  the 
rook  beside  the  grotto,  and  a  poem  of  his  own  in  praise  of  Cam- 
oens  inscribed  upon  it.     The  poem  is  good,  considering  that  if 


484  mDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

is  FreucL,  and  if  the  Chevalier  di  Rienzi  had  a  name  in  litei 
ature,  we  might  pardon,  and  even  approve,  his  desire  to  couple 
it  with  the  illustrious  Camoens.  To  me,  who  never  heard  of 
him  before,  the  deed  is  presumptuous  and  profane ;  though  a 
housand  times  less  so  than  some  French  doggerel  upon  Cam- 
oens  written  in  the  visitor's  book.  From  the  terrace  on  the 
western  side  of  the  garden  there  are  lovely  views  of  the  innei 
harbor,  especia%  towards  sunset;  and  the  "  Casa  Gardens,"  aa 
they  are  called,  are  a  frequent  resort  of  the  foreign  residents  at 
that  hour. 

My  days  passed  away  quietly  and  indolently  enough, 
through  the  remainder  of  August.  The  thermometer  ranged 
from  80°  to  93°  in  the  shade,  and  the  sun,  hanging  directly  in 
the  zenith  at  noon,  poured  down  a  flood  of  white  heat.  Macao 
seemed  wholly  deserted  at  such  times,  notwithstanding  its 
society  was  larger  and  more  animated  than  usual  I  began  to 
make  preparations  for  returning  home,  a  course  which  was  ren- 
dered necessary  by  my  long  absence.  The  fact  of  my  having 
entered  the  service  bound  me  for  the  entire  cruise,  but  Commo- 
dore Perry,  with  his  u&ual  kindness,  on  learning  that  a  prolonged 
absence  would  be  a  serious  disadvantage  to  me,  gave  me  leave 
to  resign.  I  desired  to  return  by  way  of  San  Francisco,  but  aa 
no  vessel  was  then  up  for  that  port,  I  changed  my  plans  and 
took  passage  for  New  York  in  the  clipper  ship  Sea  Serpent^ 
Captain  Howland,  which  was  announced  to  sail  from  Whampoa 
»D  the  9th  of  September. 

I  made  a  trip  to  Itong-Kong  to  draw  some  funds  from  the 
Oriental  Bank,  and  had  the  satisfaction  of  receiving  $347  for  a 
letter  of  credit  on  London  for  $500.  In  returning  I  took  a 
^amjpan^  as  the  Chinese  boats  are  called,  and  made  the  run  u 


TRIP    TO    CDMSINGMOON.  485 

Macao  in  five  hours  and  a  half,  at  the  risk  of  falling  into  the 
hands  of  the  pirates  who  infest  the  Lemma  and  Lin-tin  Islands 
I  also  went  up  to  Cumsingmoon,  in  the  fast  boat  of  old  Eyok, 
who  supplied  the  squadron,  with  fresh  provisions,  and  passed 
nother  night  on  board  the  dear  old  Susquehanna.  I  began  to 
ove  the  very  timbers  of  the  staunch  frigate  that  had  been  my 
home,  more  or  less,  for  six  months,  and  I  felt  a  keen  pang  on 
moving  away  from  ner  huge  black  hull  and  the  gallant  soula 
within  it.  M^y  pr^sp'^rous  breezes  attend  her  and  them,  wher- 
ever thev  sail! 


CHAPTER     XL, 

SCBHEb    IS     aS  U    A  nO  V  ti  D    uaSxoK. 

[ II crease  of  (he  Sqiuulron— Disposition  of  the  Vessels— Passage  to  Canton— First  Visit 
of  the  City— The  Foreign  Factories— Old  and  New  China  Streets— Talking  *  Pi- 
geon English  "—The  Great  Temple  of  Ilonan— Ceremonies  of  the  Priests— Sacred 
Books  and  Pigs— The  Lotus  Bloscom— Dwellings  of  the  Priests— A  Retired  Ab- 
bot— Opium  Smoking  In  Chlnar— The  Opium-Pipe — Flavor  and  Fascination  of  the 
Drug— Its  Effects— A  Walk  around  Canton— The  Walls— Entering  the  City— For- 
eign Devils — A  Tea-llouse — Beyond  the  Suburbs — A  Chinese  Panorama — The 
Feast  of  Lanterns— Dr.  Parker's  Hospital— The  Eve  of  Departnre. 

By  the  end  of  August,  all  the  vessels  of  the  squadron  had 
arrived  in  China,  with  the  exception  of  the  store-ship  Lexing- 
ton. The  Macedonian,  Vandalia  and  Southampton  were  sent 
to  the  anchorage  at  Cuinsingmoon,  whither  the  Powhatan^ 
which  returned  to  Hong-Kong  on  the  25th,  also  proceeded. 
She  was  detained  eight  days  at  Loo-Choo,  in  order  to  remedy 
a  slight  defect  m  one  of  her  engines.  The  store-ship  Supply^ 
arrived  at  Hong-Kong  on  the  27th,  having  touched  at  Ainoy 
on  her  way  from  Loo-Choo.  Canton  was  in  a  very  unsettled 
state,  and  the  foreign  merchants  anticipated  trouble,  on  account 
of  the  spread  of  the  rebellion.  All  the  American  firms 
addressed  a  letter  to  Commodore  Perry,  begging  that  a  national 
vessel  might  be  sent  up  to  the  Macao  Passage,  within  a  mile 
and  a  half  of  the  factories.     The  Supply  was  therefore  ordered 


FIRST    VIEW    OF    CANTON.  487 

np  the  river,  as  all  the  other  vessels  of  the  squadron  drew  toe 
much  water  to  pass  the  bar.  Our  great  steam  frigates  certainly 
contributed  to  our  success  in  Japan,  but  they  are  nearly  use- 
less for  service  in  the  Chinese  waters. 

I  took  the  anchor  from  my  cap  on  the  5th  of  September 
after  four  months'  service,  and  in  the  evening  of  the  same  day 
bade  adieu  to  my  messmates  and  embarked  on  board  the  steamer 
for  Canton.  Mr.  Contee,  the  Flag-Lieutenant  of  the  Squadron, 
who  had  procured  leave  of  absence  on  account  of  ill-health  and 
had  also  taken  passage  on  the  Sea  Serpent,  accompanied  me 
It  was  after  sunset  when  we  left,  and  my  last  glimpse  of  Macao 
was  the  dark  silhouette  of  its  hills  against  the  fading  sky.  We 
had  an  indistinct  night-view  of  the  Bogue  Forts,  at  the  Bocca 
Tigris,  or  mouth  of  the  Whampoa  River,  after  which  I  sought 
a  couch  on  one  of  the  hard  benches  in  the  cabin,  but  failed 
to  extract  much  repose  from  it. 

The  steamer  did  not  reach  her  destination  until  daybreak 
the  next  morning.  Consequently,  whatever  there  may  be  of  the 
picturesque  or  striking  in  the  approach  to  Canton,  was  lost  tc 
me.  As  the  rapid  dawn  of  the  South  brightened  into  sunrise, 
I  found  that  we  were  anchored  in  the  middle  of  the  stream 
between  the  foreign  Factories  and  the  famous  temple  of  Honan. 
The  Pearl  River,  at  this  place,  is  not  more  than  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  wide,  and  thickly  studded  with  junks,  flower-boats  and 
those  crowded  hulks  which  contain  the  "  floating  population"— 
an  important  item  in  the  census  of  the  city.  What  little  can 
be  seen  of  the  native  part  of  Canton  from  this  point,  is  low  and 
mean,  unrelieved  by  a  single  pagoda.  The  foreign  Factories 
on  the  contrary,  inclosing  a  parallelogram  of  three  or  fom 
acres,  which  extends  down  to  the  river,  are  substantial  blocks 


4-88  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

of  buildings,  four  stories  in  height.  The  open  space  has  been 
turned  into  a  Botanical  Garden,  which  is  kej.t  in  excellent 
order,  as  it  affords  the  residents  their  only  chance  for  agreeable 
exercise,  except  that  of  boating  on  the  river.  In  this  gardoD 
four  lofty  flag-staffs,  planted  at  regular  intervals,  display  the 
colors  of  America,  France,  England  and  Denmark,  and  in  the 
centre  a  neat  Gothic  Chapel  stands  on  the  site  of  the  old  Hog- 
Lane,  renowned  during  the  troubles  of  1841.  The  factories 
are  divided  into  different  "  hongs" — English,  American,  Danish, 
Slc. — but  the  foreign  community  is  crowded  into  narrow 
bounds,  hemmed  in  on  all  sides  by  the  jealousy  of  the  native 
authorities,  and  a  five  minutes'  walk  will  embrace  its  utmost 
limits. 

Adjacent  to  the  factories  are  the  streets  occupied  by  the 
Chinese  "  hong  merchants,"  whose  dealings  are  almost  wholly 
with  foreigners,  and  the  markets  and  shops  of  mechanics,  which 
depend  on  foreign  custom.  The  most  noted  thoroughfares  are 
Old  and  New  China-streets,  and  Looking-Glass  and  Spectacle- 
streets,  which  in  their  quaint  forms  and  brilliant  coloring,  their 
gay,  bustling  and  lively  aspect,  resemble  the  bazaars  of  Orien- 
tal cities.  They  are  narrow,  the  houses  two  stories  in  height, 
with  projecting  roofs,  the  fronts  of  a  dark  blue  or  green  color, 
with  a  mixture  of  bright  red,  and  still  farther  relieved  by  the 
gilded  hieroglyphics  which  cover  the  vertical  swinging  signs. 
In  Old  and  New  China-streets  there  are  also  English  signs 
which  inform  you  that  A-Kow  or  Hu-ping  deals  in  silks,  or 
porcelain,  or  lacquered  ware,  or  ivory,  or  mother-of-pearl,  or 
Bandal-wood,  or  silver.  The  predominant  talent  of  the  Chinese 
is  their  faculty  of  imitation,  and  since  their  intercourse  with 
foreigners  has  become  less  restricted,  they  have  been  obliged  to 


PIGEON    ENGLISH 


489 


abanion  many  of  their  former  grotesque  models  and  accept 
others  more  consonant  with  a  civilized  taste.  This  is  shown  in 
the  patterns  of  their  silks,  the  form  and  style  of  their  articles 
in  silver  and  ivory,  and  their  furniture.  The  display  in  theif 
shops  is  tempting  to  a  stranger,  but  purchases  were  ruinous  at 
a  crisis,  when  money  commanded  fifty  per  cent,  premium  at 
Canton,  and  seventy.  |ve  per  cent,  at    Shanghai. 

Whoever  first  invented  the  "  pigeon  English,"  as  it  is  called 
—the  jargon  used  by  foreigners  in  their  intercourse  with    Chi- 
nese—deserves an   immortality  of  ridicule.     The  jargon  has 
now  become  so  fixed,  that  it  will  take  several  generations  to 
eradicate  it.     The    Chinaman  requires  as  much  practice  to 
learn  it  as  he  would  to  learn  correct  English,  while  the  English- 
man, in  his  turn,  must  pick  it  up  as  he  would  a  new  language. 
Fancy,  for  instance,  a  man  going  into  one  of  the  silverware 
shops  in  New  China-street,  and  saying,  "  My  wantye  two  piece 
Bnuff-box :  can  secure  ?  "  when  his  meaning  is  simply — "  I  want 
two  snuff-boxes:    can  you  get  them?"     To  which   A-Wing 
gravely  answers :  "  Can  secure."    Or,  another  declaring :  "  My 
no  savey  that  pigeon" — which  signifies  m  English  :  "  I  don't 
anderstand  the  business."     If  you  make  inquiries  at  a  hotel, 
you  must  ask  :  "  What  man  have  got  top-side  ?  "  (who  are  up 
Btairs  ?  )  and  the   Chinese  servant  will  make  answer :  "  Two 
piece  captain,  one  piece  joss-man,  have  got."     (There  are  two 
captains  and  a  clergyman.)     It  was  some  time  before  I  could 
bring  myself  to  make  use  of  this  absurd  and  barbarous  lingo, 
md  it  was  always  very  unpleasant  to  hear  it  spoken  by  a  lady. 
As  far  as  sight-seeing  is  concerned,  Canton  has  very  little 
to  offer  the  traveller,  and  I  was  so  thoroughly  surfeited  with 
Ohina  that  I  made  no  effort  to  see  mo^e  than  the  most  proml 
21* 


490  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

nent  objects.  Mr.  Wells  Williams  and  the  Rev.  Mr.  Bounej 
were  kiud  enough  to  accompany  me  through  the  Templt;  of 
Honan,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  river.  This  is  a  place  of 
great  sanctity,  embracing  within  its  bounds  a  well-endowed 
college  of  Bcodhist  priests.  There  are  a  number  of  temples 
or  rather  shrines  of  the  gods,  standing  within  enclosed  courts, 
which  are  shaded  by  large  and  venerable  trees.  We  first  passed 
through  a  portal,  placed  in  advance,  like  the  pylon  of  an  Egyp- 
tian temple,  with  a  colossal  figure  on  each  side,  of  the  watch- 
ers or  guardians  of  the  edifice.  With  their  distended  abdo- 
mens, copper  faces  and  fierce  black  eyeballs,  they  might  very 
well  have  passed  for  Gog  and  Magog.  The  temples  were  mas- 
sive square  structures,  with  peaked  roofs,  containing  colossal 
gilded  statues  of  various  divinities,  most  of  whom  were  seated 
crvss-legged,  with  their  hands  on  their  stomachs  and  a  grin  of 
ineffable  good-humor  on  their  faces.  They  were  no  doubt  rep- 
resented a-s  having  dined  well,  and  therefore  the  more  easily  to 
be  propitiated.  We  reached  the  main  temple  in  time  to  wit- 
Qess  the  rites  of  the  Boodhist  priests.  Numerous  candles 
and  "joss-sticks"  of  sandal-wood  were  burning  at  the  feet  of 
the  vast  statues,  and  the  shaven-headed  priests,  thirty  or  forty 
in  number,  walked  solemnly  in  a  circle  around  the  open  space 
before  them,  chanting  their  hymns.  The  character  of  the  chants 
was  very  similar  to  some  of  those  used  in  the  Roman  Catholic 
service,  and  there  were  other  features  in  the  ceremonies  of  the 
priests  which  showed  the  same  resemblance.  I  believe  thi^ 
fact  has  been  noticed  by   other  travellers. 

After  the  chanting  was  concluded,  the  priests  came  out  iii 
single  file  and  passed  into  the  large  building  which  they  mhab 
ited  in  common.     Some  of  them  paused  to  speak  with  Mr 


THE   LOTUS   BLOSSOM.  491 

Boniey,  who  was  known  to  them,  and  whom  they  seemed  tc 
regard  without  the  least  animosity,  notwithstanding  his  mis- 
sionary character.  We  then  entered  a  labyrinth  of  smalle- 
buil  lings,  in  one  of  which  was  a  printing  establishment,  where 
the  legends  of  Boodhism  were  multiplied  in  great  quantities. 
Many  of  the  books  were  illustrated  with  curious  woodcuts 
A  little  further,  we  came  upon  the  stable  of  the  sacred  hogs, 
and  were  allowed  a  look  at  the  venerated  animals.  Alas  1  like 
many  humans,  their  swinish  nature  was  only  increased  and 
intensified  by  their  exalted  station.  Very  slothful  and  greedy 
were  they. 

The  temple,  without  its  various  attendant  edifices,  courts 
and  gardens,  covers  an  area  of  forty-two  acres.  The  garden, 
however,  is  a  mere  vegetable  patch,  with  a  pond  of  the  sacred 
lotus  m  the  midst.  Several  of  these  superb  plants  were  in 
bloom,  and  we  bribed  a  laborer  to  wade  out  into  the  slimy  pool 
and  procure  us  a  few  blossoms.  The  slender  stem,  five  feet  in 
length,  upholds  a  broad  cup,  as  elegant  in  form  as  the  Warwick 
Yase,  and  about  eight  inches  in  diameter,  when  fully  expanded. 
The  leaves  have  the  velvety  whiteness  of  alabaster,  veined 
with  delicate  pencillings  of  the  purest  rose-color,  and  in  the 
centre  lies  the  fruit,  an  inverted  cone  of  pale  green,  surrounded 
with  a  fringe  of  golden  anthers.  The  perfume  has  that  fresh 
and  healthy  sweetness  which  never  cloys  the  sense.  The  Rose 
may  be  a  queen  among  flowers,  but  the  Lotus,  sublime  in  its 
p^jTity,  grace  and  exquisite  beauty,  is  a  goddess.  How  gorgeous 
ft  show  must  its  blosscms  make,  on  the  White  Nile,  where,  at 
the  first  ray  of  sunrise,  tens  of  thousands  flash  open  all  at 
nnce.  along  leagies  of  shore  I 

Beyond  the  pool  was  a  little  copse,  in  which  stood  a  small 


492  INDIA, 

building,  used  in  the  incremation  of  the  dead  priests.  It  wa? 
a  simple  chamber,  with  a  small  entrance,  and  vents  for  the 
escape  of  the  smoke.  The  bodj  is  placed  on  a  funeral  pile, 
which  is  replenished  until  the  flesh  is  roasted  into  cinders  and 
the  bones  calcined  into  dust.  On  our  way  back  to  the  river 
we  passed  through  the  habitation  of  the  priests,  taking  a  look 
at  their  kitchens  and  refectories.  A  number  of  the  younger 
brethren  gathered  around  us,  lusting  strongly  after  the  carnal 
gratification  of  cigars,  and  my  whole  stock  was  soon  divided 
among  them.  Mr.  Bonney  took  me  to  visit  a  former  abbot,  a 
man  of  much  learning,  who  was  then  living  in  a  quiet  way,  on 
a  pension.  He  received  us  with  much  cordiality,  and  showed 
us  his  bachelor  establishment  of  three  rooms  and  a  little  gar- 
den, which  were  kept  in  great  neatness  and  order.  He  was 
about  sixty  years  of  age,  and  his  pale  face,  calm  eye  and  high, 
retreating  brow,  spoke  of  a  serene  and  studious  life.  In  an 
inner  chamber,  however,  I  noticed  one  of  those  couches  which 
are  used  by  the  opium-smokers,  and  the  faint,  subtle  odor  of  the 
drug  still  hung  about  the  furniture  and  the  walls. 

In  spite  of  the  penalties  attached  to  it  by  Chinese  law,  the 
smoking  of  opium  is  scarcely  a  concealed  practice  at  present. 
t  have  seen  it  carried  on  in  open  shops  in  Shanghai,  where 
there  are  some  streets  which  are  never  free  from  the  sickening 
smell.  It  had  always  been  my  intention  to  make  a  trial  of  the 
practice,  in  order  to  learn  its  effects  by  personal  experience, 
anr^.  being  now  on  the  eve  of  leaving  China,  I  applied  to  a  gen- 
tleman residing  in  Canton,  to  put  me  in  the  way  of  enjoying  a 
pipe  or  two.  He  was  well  acquainted  with  a  Chinaman  who 
was  addicted  to  the  practice,  and  by  an  agreement  with  ham 
took  me  to  his  house  one  evening.     We  were  ushered  into  t 


SMOKING  OPIUM. 


long  room,  with  a  divan,  or  platform  about  three  feet  high,  ai 
the  further  end.  Several  Chinamen  were  in  the  room,  and  one. 
stretched  out  on  the  platform,  was  preparing  his  pipe  at  a 
lamp.  The  host  invited  me  to  stretch  myself  opposite  to  him, 
and  place  my  head  upon  one  of  those  cane  head-stools  which 
serve  the  Chinese  in  lieu  of  pillows. 

The  opium-pipe  is  a  bamboo  stick,  about  two  feet  long, 
having  a  small  drum  inserted  near  the  end,  with  an  aperture 
in  its  centre.  A  piece  of  opium,  about  twice  the  size  of  a  pin's 
head,  is  taken  up  on  a  slender  wbe  and  held  in  the  flame  of 
the  lamp  until  it  boils  or  bubbles  up,  when  it  is  rolled  into  a 
cylindrical  shape  on  the  drum,  by  the  aid  of  the  wii'e.  It 
loses  its  dark  color  by  the  heating  and  becomes  pale  and  soft. 
Having  been  sufficiently  rolled,  it  is  placed  over  the  aperture, 
and  the  wire,  after  being  thrust  through  its  centre,  to  allow 
the  air  to  pass  into  the  pipe,  is  withdrawn.  The  pipe  is  then 
held  to  the  flame,  and  as  the  opium  burns,  its  fumes  are  drawn 
into  the  lungs  by  a  strong  and  long-continued  inspiration.  In 
about  half  a  minute  the  portion  is  exhausted,  and  the  smoker 
is  ready  for  a  second  pipe. 

To  my  surprise  I  found  the  taste  of  the  drag  as  delicious 
as  its  smell  is  disagreeable.  It  leaves  a  sweet,  rich  flavor,  like 
the  hnest  liquorice,  upon  the  palate,  and  the  gentle  stimulus  it 
communicates  to  the  blood  in  the  lungs,  fills  the  whole  body 
with  a  sensation  of  warmth  and  strength.  The  fumes  of  the 
opium  are  no  more  irritating  to  the  windpipe  or  bronchial 
tubes,  than  common  air,  while  they  seem  imbued  with  a  rich 
ness  of  vitality  far  beyond  our  diluted  oxygen.  I  had  supposed 
that  opium  was  smoked  entirely  for  the  purpose  of  mental  ex- 
ailaration,  and  that  to  the  smokers,  as  to  many  who  intoxicate 


194  INDIA,   CHIKA,   AND   JAFAN. 

themselves  mth  ardent  spirits,  there  was  no  sensual  gratifica 
tion  in  the  mere  taste  of  the  article  The  reverse  is  undoubtedlj 
the  truth,  and  the  practice,  therefore,  is  doubly  dangerous 
Its  victim  becomes  hopelessly  involved  in  its  fascinating  illu 
eions,  and  an  awful  death,  such  as  I  had  witnessed  not  long 
before,  is  sure,  sooner  or  later,  to  overtake  him  who  indulges  to 
excess.  I  have  a  pretty  strong  confidence  in  my  own  powers 
of  resistance,  but  do  not  desire  to  make  the  experiment  a 
second  time. 

Beyond  the  feeling  of  warmth,  vigor  and  increased  vitality, 
softened  by  a  happy  consciousness  of  repose,  there  was  no  effect, 
until  after  finishing  the  sixth  pipe.  My  spirits  then  became 
joyously  excited,  with  a  constant  disposition  to  laugh ;  bril- 
liant colors  floated  before  my  eyes,  but  in  a  confused  and  cloudy 
way,  sometimes  converging  into  spots  like  the  eyes  in  a  pea- 
cock's tail,  but  oftenest  melting  into  and  through  each  other, 
like  the  hues  of  changeable  silk.  Had  the  physical  excitement 
been  greater,  they  would  have  taken  form  and  substance,  but 
after  smoking  nine  pipes  I  desisted,  through  fear  of  subject- 
ing myself  to  some  unpleasant  after-effect.  Our  Chinese  host 
informed  me  that  he  was  obliged  to  take  twenty  pipes,  in  order 
to  elevate  his  mind  to  the  pitch  of  perfect  happiness.  T  went 
home  feeling  rather  giddy,  and  became  so  drowsy,  with  slight 
qualms  at  the  stomach,  that  I  went  to  bed  at  an  early  hour. 
I  had  made  an  arrangement  to  walk  around  the  walls  of  Can- 
ton the  next  morning,  with  Mr.  Bonney,  and  felt  some  doubt 
as  to  whether  I  should  be  able  to  undertake  it ;  but,  after  a 
deep  and  refreshing  sleep,  I  arose  at  sunrise,  feeling  strongei 
And  brighter  than  I  had  done  for  weeks  past. 

The  walls  of  Canton  are   about   eight  miles    in  oirouit 


TH  THE  STREETS  OF  CANTON.  496 

This  is  but  a  limited  extent  for  a  city,  which  contains  upwards 
of  a  raillion  of  inhabitants,  and  more  than  half  the  population 
probably  live  without  the  walls,  on  the  side  next  the  river 
In  those  dark,  narrow,  and  crooked  streets  which  lie  behind 
he  factories,  the  swarm  of  human  beings  is  uninterrupted  from 
the  earliest  dawn  until  late  in  the  night.  We  set  out  at  an 
hour  when  few  of  the  Europeans  were  stirring,  and  the  streets 
were  already  so  crowded  that  it  was  difficult  to  avoid  contact 
with  the  porters  and  water-carriers — a  contact  to  be  shunned 
at  all  hazards.  Though  there  was  less  noisome  filth  than  in  the 
streets  of  Shanghai,  more  senses  than  one  were  offended,  and  1 
felt  rr^ch  relieved  when,  after  a  walk  of  more  than  two  mileSj 
we  came  into  a  less  thickly  settled  quarter.  A  Chinese  city  is 
the  greatest  of  all  abominations,  and  one  ceases  to  wonder  at 
the  physical  deformity,  or  the  monstrous  forms  of  licentious- 
ness, which  are  to  be  found  among  the  lower  classes  of  the  na- 
tives, when  he  has  seen  the  manner  in  which  they  live. 

Our  road  in  many  places  skirted  the  wall,  which  is  of 
brick,  about  twenty-five  feet  high,  and  with  a  machicolated  pa- 
rapet.  At  the  angles  there  is  sometimes  a  rude  square  bastion, 
surmounted  by  an  ornamental  edifice — probably  a  pleasure- 
house  belonging  to  gardens  within.  "We  passed  several  gates. 
into  all  of  which  I  looked,  but  could  not  see  that  the  streets 
within  differed  in  the  least  from  those  without.  Near  tho 
south-eastern  corner  Mr.  Bonney  entered  suddenly,  I  following, 
and  we  passed  across  the  angle  and  out  at  another  gate,  withou 
any  one  attempting  to  hinder  us.  While  we  were  in  the  neigh 
borhood  of  the  factories,  we  were  allowed  to  pursue  our  way 
unnoticed,  but  in  the  straggling  suburbs  on  the  eastern  side 
We  were  frequently  hailed  with    Ihe  insulting  cry  of  ^^  Fan 


i96  INDIA,    CHINA,    AHD   JAPAN. 

kwei  ! "  (Foreign  Devil !)  One  old  man,  who  was  at  work  ii\ 
nis  shop,  made  an  exclamation  as  we  passed,  which  Mr.  Bon 
ney  translated  thus :  "  I  lifted  up  my  eyes,  and  behold !  twc 
devils  suddenly  appeared  before  me ! "  One  of  these  devils 
however  belied  the  character  given  him,  by  carrying  with  him 
bundle  of  Christian  tracts,  which  he  distributed  with  a  lib- 
eral hand,  every  one,  old  or  young,  male  or  female,  accepting 
them  with  great  willingness.  They  are  too  willmg  in  fact. 
The  carelessness  with  which  they  take  every  thing  that  is  of- 
fered them  shows  a  lack  of  respect  for  their  own  faith,  an  ab- 
sence of  that  inherent  devotional  spirit,  which  alone  can  serve 
as  the  groundwork  of  their  Christianization. 

At  a  gate  near  the  north-eastern  corner,  we  stopped  at  a 
tea-house  to  take  some  refreshment.  A  company  of  Chinese 
of  the  middle  class  in  the  white  garb  of  mourning,  were  wait- 
ing there  to  attend  the  funeral  of  some  friend.  The  host 
brought  us  steaming  cups  of  tea  or  rather  tea-stew,  very  strong 
and  invigorating,  and  a  crisp  sort  of  cake  seasoned  with  pork 
and  sugar.  Some  of  the  Chinese  entered  into  conversation 
with  Mr.  Bonney,  in  a  good-humored  friendly  way,  but  one 
young  dandy  stretched  himself  upon  the  bench  beside  our  ta- 
ble, and  indulged  in  some  contemptuous  remarks  on  foreigners 
1  was  well  satisfied  to  be  ignorant  of  the  language,  for  his  man- 
nei  was  so  insolent,  that  I  could  not  have  replied  with  the 
same  mildness  and  prudence  as  my  companion. 

The  suburbs  now  ceased,  and  the  open  cultivated  country 
reached  to  the  foot  of  the  city  wall.  To  the  east  extended  a 
fertile  plain,  dotted  with  villages,  as  far  as  the  White  Cloud 
Hills,  whose  barren  summits  arose  in  the  distance.  We  kept 
on,  up  a  little  valley  to  s^me  spimgs  under  a  hill  on  the  north 


VIEW    FROM    THE    FORT  497 

ern  side  of  the  city,  which  supply  the  only  good  water  to  be 
had.  They  gush  up,  strong  and  abundant,  from  the  bottom  ol 
the  dell,  which  was  crowded  with  water-carriers,  going  to  and 
from  the  gates.  The  hill  is  crowned  with  a  fort  which  com- 
pletely commands  the  city.  It  was  taken  without  difficult) 
by  Lord  Gough,  during  the  English  war,  and  every  prepa- 
ration was  made  to  open  a  bombardment,  when  the  ransom  ol 
$5,000,000,  tendered  by  the  Chinese  merchants,  was  offered  and 
accepted.  There  is  now  a  small  garrison  within  it,  but  the  sen- 
tinel who  stood  at  the  entrance,  hastily  retreated  within  the 
walls  as  wo  approached,  and  did  not  make  his  appearance  again 
until  after  we  had  left. 

The  view  from  the  fort  is  very  fine,  taking  in  all  of  Canton, 
the  course  of  the  Pearl  River  from  Whampoa  to  the  mountain- 
ous region  in  the  west,  the  White  Cloud  Hills,  and  the  rich 
delta  of  the  river,  stretching  away  to  the  Bocca  Tigris.  The 
mountains  which  surround  this  wide  landscape  are  bleak  and 
barren,  and  contrast  strongly  with  the  garden-like  beauty  of  the 
plain.  The  broad  arms  of  the  river,  dotted  with  boats  and 
junks ;  the  many  villages,  half-hidden  among  groves  of  fruit 
trees;  the  lofty  pagodas  that  rise  here  and  there  from  the 
banks ;  and  the  crowded  city  itself  directly  under  the  eye — 
the  central  point  which  unites  the  interest  of  all  these  scattered 
objects — combine  to  form  a  panorama  unique  but  thoroughly 
Chinese  in  its  character,  and  affording  as  good  a  type  of  Chinese 
scenery  as  is  readily  accessible  to  foreigners.  The  northern 
part  of  Canton  rests  upon  the  side  of  a  hill,  whose  summit  is 
crowned  by  a  great  square  red  temple  four  stories  in  height 
h.  slender  pagoda,  towards  the  river,  is  the  only  other  prominent 
irchitectural  objoct.     About  one  third  of  the  space  with  thf 


498  INDIA,    CmNA,    AND    JAPAN 

walls  is  taken  up  with  gardens.  We  did  not  remain  long  upoD 
the  hill,  which  is  in  bad  repute,  on  account  of  the  robheriei 
committed  in  its  vicinity.  After  descending  to  a  little  village^ 
and  passing  several  wet  fields  of  lotus  and  the  taro  plant,  we 
came  again  to  the  filth  and  crowds  of  the  outer  city,  and  finally 
reached  our  starting-point,  after  an  absence  of  three  hours. 

The  Feast  of  Lanterns  (as  it  is  called,  though  incorrectly 
by  foreigners)  was  celebrated  during  my  visit,  but  with  much 
less  splendor  than  usual,  on  account  of  the  disturbed  state  of 
society.  The  flower-boats  on  the  river  were  all  ablaze  with 
lamps,  and  the  shops  in  the  principal  streets  were  gaily  illumi 
nated.  There  were  also  "  sing-songs "  (theatrical  performan- 
ces), discordant  instruments  of  noise,  and  other  sources  of  Chi- 
nese pleasure,  but  the  whole  display  was  irregular,  barbaric, 
and  utterly  devoid  of  grand  effect.  When  I  called  to  mind 
the  fiery  mosques  of  Constantinople,  and  the  cannon  thunders 
of  the  Night  of  Predestination,  the  Feast  of  Lanterns  seemed 
a  farce  in  comparison. 

I  was  much  interested  in  a  visit  to  Dr.  Parker's  Chinese 
Hospital.  Some  idea  of  the  good  accomplished  by  this  institu- 
tion may  be  gathered  from  the  fact,  that  since  its  establishment 
more  than  forty-nine  thousand  persons  have  been  admitted. 
Dr.  Parker  himself  is  a  very  accomplished  surgeon ;  his  gal- 
lery of  portraits  exhibiting  the  tumors  which  he  has  removed, 
and  the  collection  of  stones  which  illustrates  his  skill  in  lithot- 
omy, would  be  treasures  to  the  Museum  of  a  Medical  College. 
His  operations  in  lithotomy,  especially,  have  been  remarkably 
successful,  as  he  has  lost  hut  four  out  of,  I  believe,  thirty -twg 
patients. 

While  in  Canton  I  enjoyed  the  hospitality  of  Mr.  GideoD 


LEAVING   CHINA.  499 

Nye,  Jr.,  one  of  the  prominent  American  merchants,  who  is  well 
known  at  home  through  his  taste  for  Art.  My  stay  was  very 
pleasant  and  interesting,  and  I  could  have  agreeably  prolonged 
it ;  but  I  was  not  sorry  when  my  last  night  on  Chinese  soil 
arrived.  The  reader  may  have  rightly  conjectured  that  I  am 
not  partial  to  China,  but  this  much  I  must  admit :  it  is  the 
very  best  country  in  the  world — to  leave. 


CHAPTER     XLI 

THE     IKDIAK    ISLES. 

Farewell  to  China— "Whampoa — A  Musical  Good-Bye — The  Bogue  Forts— The  Last 
Link— The  China  Sea— Life  on  the  Sea  Serpent— The  Straits  of  Mindoro— Pictu- 
resque Islands — Calm  Sailing— Moonlight  In  the  Tropica — "Summer  Isles  of  Eden  " 
—The  Sooloo  Sea— The  Cagayanes  Islands— Straits  of  Basllan— Mindanao— A  Na- 
tive Proa— The  Sea  of  Celebes— Entering  the  Straits  of  Macassar— Crossing  the 
Equator— Off  Celebes— Lazy  Life— The  Java  Sea— Passing  the  Thousand  Islands- 
Approach  to  the  Straits  of  Sunda. 

On  the  morning  of  the  9th  of  September  we  left  Canton  in 
the  Macao  steamer,  which  had  been  chartered  to  tow  the  Sea 
Serpent  out  to  sea.  We  went  swiftly  down  the  crowded  stream, 
passing  the  Factories,  the  temple  of  Ilo-nan,  and  the  floating 
houses  of  the  aquatic  Cantonese,  and  soon  reached  the  long 
stretch  of  green  paddy-fields  extending  to  Whampoa.  The  day 
was  shady,  but  with  a  soft,  cool,  clear  atmosphere,  which  mel- 
lowed and  deepened  the  rich  colors  of  the  landscape.  The  White 
Cloud  Hills  rose  high  over  the  undulating  region  between, 
which,  with  its  grcves,  villages  and  tall  pagodas,  refreshed  the 
eye,  but  took  not  the  least  hold  on  the  heart.  I  found  myself 
admiring  its  beauty  with  a  cold,  passionless  appreciation,  im 
oonneoted  with  the  slightest  regret  at  leaving  it,  or  the  least 


A    MUSICAL    GOOD-BYE. 


501 


wish  to  behold  it  again.  There  may  be  scenes  in  China  fair 
to  look  upon,  but  they  are  ennobled  by  no  lofty  human  interest, 
lighted  by  no  gleam  of  poetry  or  art. 

Near  the  mouth  of  Lob  Creek  we  passed  a  tall  pagoda, 
and  another  within  a  mile  or  two  of  Whampoa,  crowning  the 
top  of  a  verdant  knoll.  The  latter  was  built  of  dark-red 
stone,  and  with  the  ivy  and  wild  shrubs  waving  from  the  horned 
roofs  of  its  nine  stories,  was  really  a  picturesque  object.  The 
shipping  of  Whampoa  was  now  visible,  and  in  less  than  half  an 
hour  we  lay  alongside  of  the  good  clipper  which  was  thence- 
forth to  be  our  ocean  home.  Whampoa  is  a  long,  scattering 
Chinese  town,  on  the  southern  bank  of  the  river.  The  foreign 
vessels  anchored  in  the  reach,  for  a  distance  of  more  than  a 
mile,  give  the  place  a  lively  air,  and  the  low,  conical  hills 
which  rise  from  the  shore,  crowned  here  and  there  with  Chinese 
buildings,  relieve  the  tameness  of  the  swampy  soil  on  which 
the  town  is  built.  We  were  obliged  to  wait  for  the  flood-tide, 
which  detained  us  two  hours. 

The  anchor  was  cheerily  lifted  at  last,  and  we  got  under  way 
for  New  York.  In  going  down  the  river  we  had  a  fair  view 
of  all  the  vessels  of  war  anchored  in  Blenheim  Reach,  which 
was  only  half  a  mile  distant,  on  our  right.  The  Mississippi 
lay  nearest  to  us,  and  as  we  drew  near  the  opening  of  the 
reach  one  of  her  boats  appeared,  with  the  band  on  board,  float- 
ing side  by  side  with  us,  while  they  played  our  stirring  national 
airs.  It  was  a  parting  compliment  from  Capt.  Lee  to  Lieut. 
Contce.  The  Sea  Serpent's  crew  gathered  on  the  forecastle, 
gave  three  hearty  cheers,  which  the  Mississippi's  men  answered 
with  a  will,  standing  up  in  the  boat.  This  was  our  last  glimpse 
of  naval  !if o,  and  a  fitting  farewell  to  the  service.    I  looked  ir 


502  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

raiii  for  the  Susquehanna,  which  was  expected  from  Cumsing 
moun,  but  she  had  not  arrived.  I  would  have  given  much  foi 
another  sight  of  her  big  hull  and  familiar  spars;  and,  bettei 
Htill,  for  a  hail  from  some  of  her  jolly  men. 

The  river  now  became  broader  and  frequently  expanded  on 
either  side  into  great  arms,  some  of  which  extended  for  many 
miles  into  the  country.  We  passed  the  first  bar,  which  was 
created  by  the  Chinese  sinking  junks  to  prevent  the  English 
from  reaching  Canton.  A  high  hill  on  the  southern  shore,  near 
the  second  bar,  which  we  reached  about  5  p.  m.,  is  crowned 
with  a  pagoda  150  feet  high,  which  is  visible  at  a  great  dis- 
tance. Beyond  this,  the  river  again  expands,  to  be  finally 
contracted  into  a  narrow  pass,  at  the  Bocca  Tigris,  which  we 
fortunately  reached  before  dusk.  It  is  a  fine,  bold  gateway 
formed  by  two  mountainous  islands,  which  leave  a  passage  of 
about  half  a  mile  between  them.  There  are  several  Chinese 
batteries  on  either  hand,  but  they  are  more  formidable  in 
appearance  than  in  reality. 

By  the  time  we  had  passed  the  Bogue,  it  was  dark.  The 
tide  was  now  in  our  favor,  and  we  stood  away  towards  Lintin. 
We  had  a  large  number  of  friends,  including  Messrs.  Nye  and 
Tuckerman  of  Canton,  at  dinner  in  the  cabin,  but  about  10  p 
M.  they  all  bade  us  good-bye  and  returned  aboard  the  steamer. 
We  were  cast  ofl"  a  little  after  midnight,  and  taking  a  north- 
east wind  ran  down  past  the  Ladrrues  at  the  rate  of  ten  knots 
an  hour.  "When  I  went  on  deck  in  the  morning,  China  was  no 
longer  visible.  The  weather  was  dull  and  rainy,  but  we  con- 
tinued to  make  good  progress.  On  the  afternoon  of  the  12th, 
oy  which  time  we  had  made  300  miles,  a  violent  squall  came 
m  tearing  our  maintop-gallant  sail  and  jib  into  ribbons.    Heavj 


LIFE   ON    THE   8BA    SERPENT.  503 

showers  of  rain  succeeded,  and  durmg  the  night  the  wind  grad 
ually  settled  into  the  regular  south-west  monsoon.  By  noon  the 
following  day,  we  were  in  Lat.  14*  54^  N.— consequently  soutb 
of  the  Paracel  Reefs,  and  beyond  the  latitude  of  violent 
typhoons.  As  the  wind  still  blew  steadily  from  the  south-west, 
Captain  Howland  determined  to  change  his  course  and  make 
for  the  Straits  of  Mindoro,  Basilan  and  Macassar,  hopmg  to 
get  the  south-east  trade  wind  in  the  Java  Sea,  and  thus  make 
a  better  run  to  Angier  than  by  slowly  beating  down  the  China 

Sea. 

I  found  the  Sea  Serpent  an  excellent  sea-boat,  in  every 
respect.  She  behaved  admirably  on  a  wind,  slipping  through 
the  water  so  softly  that  we  would  not  have  suspected  the  speed 
she  made.  Although  so  sharp  in  the  bows,  she  was  very  dry, 
scarcely  a  spray  flying  over  the  forecastle.  In  addition  to 
Lieut.  Contee  and  myself,  there  was  but  one  other  passenger, 
Mr.  Parkman  of  Boston.  Capt.  Howland  was  accompanied  by 
his  wife  and  child.  The  officers  were  intelligent  and  obliging, 
and  our  party,  though  small,  was  large  enough  to  be  agreeable. 
We  were  all  well  satisfied  with  the  prospect  of  a  cruise  among 
the  Indian  Isles,  and  therefore  welcomed  the  Captam's  decision. 

At  sunset,  on  the  14th,  we  made  land  ahead,  at  a  considerable 
distance.  As  the  passage  required  careful  navigation,  on  account 
of  its  abundant  reefs,  we  stood  off  and  on  until  the  next  morn- 
ing. Passing  the  North  and  North-west  Rocks,  the  mountain- 
3us  island  of  Busvagon,  or  Camelianes,  opened  to  the  south 
and  east,  its  lofty  hills,  and  deep,  picturesque  valleys  clothed  in 
eternal  green.  The  rocky  islets  which  bristled  between  us  and 
its  shores  exhibited  the  most  striking  peculiarities  of  form  and 
structure.     Some  shot  upwards  like  needless  or  obelisks  from 


504  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN 

tlie  dark-blue  sea;  others  rose  in  heavy  masses, like  the  tirrets 
or  bastions  of  a  fortress,  crowned  with  tufts  of  shrubbery.  Tha 
rock  of  which  they  were  formed  was  of  a  dark  slate  coL)r,  in 
vertical  strata,  which  appeared  to  have  been  violently  broken 
off  at  the  top,  bearing  a  strong  resemblance  to  columnar  basalt 

Busvagon  stretched  along,  point  beyond  point,  for  a  distance 
of  forty  or  fifty  miles.  The  land  rose  with  a  long,  gentle  slope 
from  the  beaches  of  white  sand,  and  in  the  distance  stood  the 
vapory  peaks  of  high  mountains.  We  sailed  slowly  along  the 
outer  edge  of  the  islets,  to  which  the  larger  island  made  a 
warm,  rich  backgroimd.  The  air  was  deliciously  mild  and  pure, 
the  sea  smooth  as  glass,  and  the  sky  as  fair  as  if  it  had  never 
been  darkened  by  a  storm.  Except  the  occasional  gambols  of 
the  bonitas,  or  the  sparkle  of  a  flying-fish  as  he  leaped  into  the 
sun,  there  was  no  sign  of  life  on  these  beautiful  waters. 

Towards  noon  the  gentle. south-east  breeze  died  away;  and 
we  lay  with  motionless  sails  upon  the  gleaming  sea.  The  sun 
hung  over  the  mast-head  and  poured  down  a  warm  tropical  lan- 
guor, which  seemed  to  melt  the  very  marrow  in  one's  bones. 
For  four  hours  we  lay  becalmed,  when  a  light  ripple  stole  along 
from  the  horizon,  and  we  saw  the  footsteps  of  the  welcome 
breeze  long  before  we  felt  it.  Gradually  increasing,  it  bore  us 
smoothly  and  noiselessly  away  from  Busvagon  and  the  rocky 
towers  and  obelisks,  and  at  sunset  we  saw  the  phantomlike  hills 
of  the  southern  point  of  the  island  of  Mindoro,  forty  miles 
distant.  The  night  was  filled  with  the  glory  of  the  full  moon 
—a  golden  tropical  radiance,  nearly  as  lustrous,  and  far  more 
Boft  and  balmy,  than  the  light  of  day — a  BLystic,  enamored 
bridal  of  the  sea  and  sky.  The  breeze  was  so  gentle  as  to  be 
felt,  and  no  more ;  the  ship  slid  as  silently  through  the  water 


PICTURESQUE    ISLANDS.  505 

HB  if  her  keel  were  muffled  in  silk ;  and  the  sense  of  repose  in 
motion  was  so  sweet,  so  grateful  to  my  travel-wearied  senses, 
that  I  remained  on  deck  until  midnight,  steeped  in  a  bath  of 
pure  indolent  happiness. 

Our  voyage  the  next  day  was  still  more  delightful  From 
dawn  until  dark  we  went  slowly  loitering  past  the  lovely  islands 
that  gem  those  remote  seas,  until  the  last  of  them  sank  asteiD 
in  the  flush  of  sunset.  Nothing  can  be  more  beautiful  than 
their  cones  of  never-fading  verdure,  draped  to  the  very  edge 
of  the  waves,  except  where  some  retreating  cove  shows  its 
bear-h  of  snow-white  sand.  On  the  larger  ones  are  woody  val- 
leys, folded  between  the  hills,  and  opening  upon  long  slopes, 
overgrown  with  the  cocoa-palm,  the  mango,  and  many  a  strange 
and  beautiful  tree  of  the  tropics.  The  light,  lazy  clouds,  suf- 
fused with  a  crimson  flush  of  heat,  that  floated  slowly  through 
the  upper  heavens,  cast  shifting  shadows  upon  the  masses  of 
foliage,  and  deepened,  here  and  there,  the  dark-purple  hue  of 
the  sea.  Retreating  behind  one  another  until  they  grew  dim 
and  soft  as  clouds  on  the  horizon,  and  girdled  by  the  most 
tranquil  of  oceans,  these  islands  were  real  embodiments  of  the 
joyous  fancy  of  Tennyson,  in  his  dream  of  the  Indies,  in 
"  Locksley  Hall."  Here,  although  the  trader  comes,  and  the 
flags  of  the  nations  of  far  continents  sometimes  droop  in  the 
motionless  air — here  are  still  the  heavy-blossomed  bowers  and 
the  heavy-fruited  trees,  the  summer  isles  of  Eden  in  their  pur- 
ple spheres  of  sea.  The  breeze  fell  nearly  to  a  calm  at  noon- 
day, hut  our  vessel  still  moved  noiselessly  southward,  and  island 
after  island  faded  from  green  to  violet,  and  from  violet  to  the 
dim,  pale  blue  that  finally  blends  with  the  air. 

The  next  day  was  most  taken  up  with  calms.     The  captain 
22 


bOt) 


and  mates  spent  much  of  their  time  in  shifting  the  sails  bo  aa  tc 
get  the  most  of  the  faint  wind-flaws  that  reached  us,  watching 
for  distant  ripple-lines  on  the  ocean,  or  whistling  over  the  rail 
In  the  afternoon  land  was  descried  ahead — the  Oagajanea 
Islands,  a  little  group  in  the  middle  of  the  Sooloo  Sea.  We 
passed  between  them  about  four  o'clock,  and  had  a  fair  view 
on  either  hand.  The  shores  are  smooth  walls  of  perpendicular 
rock,  about  a  hundred  feet  in  height,  and  almost  completely 
hidden  under  a  curtain  of  rich  vegetation.  Here  and  there  the 
rock  falls  away,  leaving  little  beaches  of  sand,  behind  which  rise 
thick  forests  of  cocoa  or  palm.  I  could  distinguish  with  the 
glass  half  a  dozen  bamboo  huts  on  the  shore.  A  few  boats 
were  drawn  up  on  the  beach.  The  islands  looked  so  lovely  as 
we  passed  them,  in  the  soft  lustre  of  sunset,  that  I  longed  for 
a  day  of  calm,  to  go  ashore  where  so  few  Europeans  have  ever 
set  foot,  and  have  a  glance  at  the  primitive  barbarism  of  the 
natives.  The  sea  still  remained  as  smooth  as  a  mountain  lake. 
We  saw  great  quantities  of  drift-wood,  upon  which  boobies  and 
cormorants  perched  in  companies  of  two  and  three,  and  watched 
for  fish  as  they  drifted  lazily  along.  In  the  neighborhood  of 
the  islands  we  frequently  saw  striped  snakes,  four  or  five  feet 
in  length. 

The  lofty  coast  of  Mindanao,  one  of  the  largest  of  the 
Philippine  Islands,  was  visible  at  sunrise,  on  the  19th.  Before 
long  Basilan  appeared  in  the  south-east,  and  by  noon  we  were 
in  the  mouth  of  the  strait.  The  observation  gave  Lat.  7^  S'  N., 
Long.  121°  E.  Two  vessels  were  descried  ahead,  a  ship  and  a 
brig,  both  lying  close  in  to  Mindanao,  and  apparently  becalmed. 
In  fact,  we  could  easily  trace  a  belt  of  calm  water  near  thi 


STRAITS    OF    BASILAN.  507 

M^ore,  criused  by  the  high  hills  of  the  island,  \9hich  prevented 
r.he  southern  breeze  from  "  blowing  home." 

Four  or  five  small  islands — the  commencement  of  the  Soo- 
loo  Archipelago — lie  to  the  westward  of  Basilan.  The  strait 
is  from  six  to  eight  miles  wide  at  its  narrowest  part,  and  toler- 
ably free  from  dangerous  points.  To  the  north,  the  hills  of 
Mindanao,  completely  mantled  with  forests,  rise  grandly  to  the 
height  of  near  two  thousand  feet.  The  shore  presents  an  almost 
impenetrable  array  of  cocoa  palms.  There  were  two  or  three 
cleared  spaces  on  the  hills,  and  as  we  entered  further  into  the 
strait,  we  could  see  with  the  glass  not  only  some  native  huts, 
but  the  houses  of  Spanish  residents  on  the  shore.  Still  fur- 
ther, at  the  head  of  a  little  bight,  and  protected  by  a  level 
island  of  palms,  we  saw  the  Spanish  settlement  of  Sambooan- 
gan.  There  were  several  large  two-story  houses,  and  a  white 
chapel,  before  which  lay  half  a  dozen  small  craft  at  anchor. 
A  native  proa  put  out  from  the  shore,  some  distance  ahead  of 
us,  and  we  at  first  thought  she  was  making  for  us  with  a  load 
of  fruit.  As  she  came  nearer  she  hoisted  a  huge  yellow  flag, 
with  a  red  ornamental  border,  and  some  large  red  characters  in 
Chinese.  There  were  six  persons  on  board,  and  he  who 
appeared  to  be  the  leader  wore  a  yellow  robe.  The  boat  had 
an  outrigger  on  each  side,  and  was  propelled  by  paddles  and  a 
light  canvas  sail.  She  came  near  us,  but  to  our  disappointment 
dropped  astern  and  passed  over  to  Basilan. 

The  latter  island  is  remarkably  picturesque  in  its  appear- 
ance, its  long,  wavy  slopes  of  foliage  shooting  into  tall  conical 
peaks.  In  passing  through  the  strait,  these  piles  of  eternal 
vegetation  on  either  hand  have  an  enchanting  effect.  I  took 
sketches  of  both  islands,  which  preserved  their  outlines,  hui 


508  ODIA,    CHINA    AND    JAPAN. 

could  not  give  the  least  idea  of  their  richness  and  beauty.  Wt 
had  a  light  westerly  wind,  with  the  tide  in  our  favor,  and  just 
as  the  moon  arose  like  a  globe  of  gold,  passed  the  eastern  moutb 
of  the  strait  and  entered  the  Sea  of  Celebes. 

We  now  experienced  a  succession  of  calms  and  baffling 
winds  for  five  days,  as  we  stood  south  by  west  across  the  Sea  of 
Celebes,  making  for  the  Straits  of  Macassar.  There  was  an  oc- 
casional squall  of  an  hour  or  two,  which  gave  us  a  "  slant "  in 
the  right  direction.  The  wind  at  last  shifted,  so  that  we  were 
able  to  run  upon  our  course  close-hauled,  and  on  the  afternoon 
of  the  25th  we  caught  a  distant  and  misty  view  of  the  Haring 
Islands.  The  next  morning  at  sunrise,  we  saw  the  lofty  head- 
land of  Point  Kaneoongan,  in  Borneo,  at  the  western  entrance 
of  the  straits.  Cape  Donda,  in  Celebes,  thirty  miles  distant,  ap 
peared  for  a  short  time,  but  was  soon  hidden  by  showers.  On 
the  27th,  at  noon,  we  were  in  0®  5^  S.,  having  crossed  the 
Equator  about  11  a.  m.,  and  thenceforth,  for  four  days,  w(^ 
slowly  loitered  along  through  the  Straits  of  Macassar,  with 
light,  variable  winds,  and  seasons  of  dead,  sultry  calm.  The 
mercury  stood  at  88^  in  the  coolest  part  of  the  ship.  The  sea 
was  as  smooth  as  a  mirror,  and  as  glossy  and  oily  in  its  dark- 
blue  gleam,  as  if  the  neighboring  shores  of  Macassar  had 
poured  upon  it  libations  of  their  far-famed  unguent  Occa 
sionally  we  saw  the  shores  of  Celebes,  but  so  distant  and  dim 
that  it  was  rather  like  a  dream  of  land  than  land  itself.  We 
walked  the  deck  languidly,  morning  and  evening,  sat  under  the 
the  awning  by  day,  alternately  dozing  and  smoking  and  read- 
ing, watched  the  drift-wood  floating  by — mangrove  logs,  with 
companies  of  sea-fowl  making  their  fishing  excursions —at< 


PASSING    THE    THOUSAND    ISLANDS.  60^ 

lur  occupation  and  slept  with  difficulty :  and  thus  the  day? 


On  the  2d  of  October  a  light  south  wind  reached  us,  and 
we  left  the  dim,  far-off  headlands  of  Celebes — the  land  of  san 
lal-wood  groves  and  birds  of  Paradise.  We  made  the  twin 
focks  called  "  The  Brothers,"  off  the  southern  point  of  Borneo, 
and  about  noon  passed  between  the  islands  of  Moresses  and 
Little  Pulo  Laut.  The  latter  are  noble  piles  of  verdure, 
rising  a  thousand  feet  from  the  water,  in  long  undulating  out- 
lines. The  Java  Sea  is  a  beautiful  piece  of  water,  compara- 
tively free  from  reefs  and  shoals,  and  rarely  exceeding  forty 
fathoms  in  depth,  so  that  vessels  may  anchor  in  any  part  of  it. 
Its  surface  is  as  smooth  as  a  lake,  and  even  when  making  eight 
or  nine  knots,  there  was  scarcely  any  perceptible  motion  in  the 
vessel.  The  temperature  was  delicious,  and  the  south  wind  so 
bland,  sweet  and  elastic,  after  the  sultry,  surcharged  atmos- 
phere of  Macassar  Straits,  that  the  change  was  perceptible  in 
the  temper  and  spirits  of  all  on  board. 

"We  had  light  but  favorable  winds,  and  for  four  days  more 
stood  across  the  Java  Sea,  averaging  about  100  miles  a  day. 
The  water  was  alive  with  snakes  and  flying-fish.  Passing  the 
Lubeck  Islands  and  Carimon  Java,  we  approached  so  near  the 
Javanese  shores  that  on  the  evening  of  the  6th  the  delicioua 
land-breeze  came  off  to  us,  bringing  an  odor  of  moist  earth  and 
vegetable  exhalations.  We  expected  to  have  a  glimpse  of  Ba- 
tavia,  but  made  considerable  northing,  so  that  we  lost  sight  of 
the  low  Java  coast  before  morning.  At  noon  we  made  th« 
Thousand  Islands,  and  as  they  have  been  but  very  imperfectlj 
explored,  we  were  obliged  to  go  completely  to  the  northward 
t>f  them,  instead  of  taking  one  of  the  numerous  channels  be 


bio  INDIA,    CHINA    AND    JAPAN. 

tween.  They  are  small  and  low,  but  thickly  covered  vifb 
trees,  among  which  the  cocoa-palm  predominates.  I  counted 
thirty-three  islands  within  a  sweep  of  a  hundred  degrees  The 
wind  being  dead  ahead,  we  stood  on  the  northern  tack  until  w( 
made  the  North  Watcher,  and  then  fetched  a  S.  by  E.  course, 
the  current  setting  us  to  windward.  The  same  evening,  how- 
ever, the  wind  changed,  and  before  I  turned  into  my  berth,  w« 
were  thirty  miles  off  Angier  Point,  the  last  gateway  interven- 
ing between  us  and  the  Indian  Ocean.  "We  had  been  twenty- 
eight  days  in  making  the  voyage  from  Whampoa — a  distAnoe 
08  we  sailed,  of  2,613  niles. 


CHAPTER    XL  II. 


ABOUND     T  HE    CAP 


Entering  the  Straits  of  Sunda-Malay  Boats-Tho  Mangoste  en-Bargalnlng  with  ttie 
Nanvcs-Scenery  of  tbe  Strait*- Angier-Passing  tbe  Sti aits-Death  on  Board- 
The  Indian  Ocean-A  Submarfne  Earthquake-A  Tropical  Sunset-A  Fatal  Escape 
-The  Trade  Wind-Mozambiqne  Channel-The  Coast  of  Africa-Doubling  the 
Cape-Southern  Constellations-Distant  View  of  Table  Mountain-On  the  Atlandc 
—The  Trades  again— Restoration— A  Slaver, 

I  AROSE  at  sunrise  on  the  morning  of  the  8th  of  October^  in 
time  to  see  the  Sea  Serpent  enter  the  Straits  of  Sunda.  On 
our  left,  five  or  six  miles  distant,  arose  the  lofty  headland  of 
Point  St.  Nicholas;  in  front  was  the  rock  called  "The  Cap,' 
and  the  island  of  "  'Thwart-the-Way,»  while  the  mountains 
of  Sumatra  were  barely  visible  far  to  the  west.  We  were 
scarcely  abreast  of  the  headland  when  two  native  prahus,  or 
boats,  were  seen  coming  off  to  us,  the  boatmen  laboring  at  their 
sweeps  with  a  sharp,  quick  cry,  peculiar  to  semi-barbarous 
people.  One  of  the  boats  was  soon  alongside,  with  a  cargo  of 
yams,  plantains  and  fowls,  with  such  fancy  articles  as  shells, 
monkeys,  parroqutts  and  Java  sparrows.  The  captain  and 
erew  were  Malays,  and  nearly  all  spoke  English  more  or  lesa 
auently      The  former  had  an  account-book,  showing  his  deal 


512  IMDIA,   CHINA   AlTD    JAPAli. 

ings  with  ships,  and  a  printed  register  from  the  Dutch  Govern 
ment,  containing  notices  of  the  vessels  called  upon  in  the  straits 
We  were  gratified  to  find  that  we  had  not  been  beaten,  the 
shortest  passage  from  Whampoa,  previous  to  our  own,  being 
hirty  days. 

The  second  boat  soon  arrived,  and  between  the  two  Capt. 
Howland  managed  to  procure  about  fifteen  cwt.  of  yams,  with 
abundant  supplies  of  potatoes,  fowls,  and  paddy.  The  fruits 
they  brought  off  were  plantains,  cocoa-nuts,  ripe  and  green,  and 
a  few  7nangosteens,  which  were  then  going  out  of  season.  The 
latter  were  mostly  rotten,  but  the  few  fresh  ones  which  we 
picked  out  were  enough  to  convince  me  that  its  fame  as  the 
most  exquisite  of  all  fruits  had  not  been  overrated.  The  very 
look  of  the  snow-white  pulp,  softly  imbedded  in  its  thick,  juicy, 
crimson  husk,  is  refreshing ;  and  its  melting  coolness  and  sweet- 
ness, relieved  by  the  faintest  mixture  of  a  delicious  acid  flavor, 
makes  it  the  very  nectar  and  ambrosia  of  the  vegetable  world. 
Certainly  no  other  fruit  is  comparable  to  it  in  flavor  and  lus- 
ciousness. 

While  the  boat  went  back  to  Angier  for  fresh  supplies  of 
paddy  and  other  necessaries — an  arrangement  which  deprived 
us  of  all  chance  oi  landing  there — we  slowly  drifted  down  the 
straits  with  the  tide,  past  Cap  Rock  and  towards  'Thwart-the- 
Way.  I  was  charmed  with  the  beauty  of  the  Javanese  shore. 
Low  hills,  completely  covered  with  foliage,  rose  from  the  water, 
with  ascending  upland  slopes  beyond,  and  groups  of  lofty  moun 
tains  in  the  background.  In  the  almost  interminable  wealth 
of  tropical  vegetation  which  covered  the  land,  the  feathery 
cocoa-palm  and  the  massive  foliage  of  the  banyan  could  be 
plainly  recognized.     Passing  the  picturesque  headlands   and 


DEATH    ON    BOARD. 


518 


leafy  wildernesses  of  "  'Thwart-the-Way,"  w{;  lay  to  off  Angler, 
waiting  for  the  boat.  "We  were  nearly  two  miles  from  shore, 
but  the  scattered  Malay  village,  the  big  banyan-tree,  the 
Dutth  fort,  and  the  light-house,  with  its  tiled  roof,  were  all 
distinctly  visible.  The  lofty  promontory  of  Rajah  Bassa,  on 
the  Sumatra  side,  loomed  in  the  distance.  The  wind  was  blow- 
ing fresh  from  the  south,  and  favorable  for  us,  but  we  were 
obliged  to  lay  to  nearly  an  hour  for  our  supplies,  surrounded 
in  the  mean  time  with  small  boats,  from  which  we  purchased 
fish,  shells,  parroquets  and  Java  sparrows.  At  last,  all  the 
fresh  stores  were  shipped,  and  we  ran  off  before  a  spanking 
breeze.  Point  St.  Nicholas,  Button  Rock,  Angier  and  'Thwart- 
the-Way  soon  disappeared,  and  the  superb  conical  peak  of  the 
island  of  Crockatoa  rose  on  our  lee  bow.  We  saw  Prince's 
island  at  dusk,  on  the  weather  bow,  and  entered  the  Indian 
Ocean  before  the  twilight  had  wholly  faded — having  made  tht 
passage  through  the  straits  under  unusually  favorable  auspices 

At  midnight  a  man  who  had  been  shipped  by  the  Consul  at 
Canton,  died  on  board.  He  was  an  old  sailor,  who  had  fallen 
ill  at  Manilla,  whence  he  had  been  sent  to  China,  and  there,  by 
a  blind  course  of  drunkenness  and  harlotry,  sealed  his  own 
doom  There  was  no  hope  of  his  recovery,  for  he  had  liimself 
cut  it  off.  It  was  a  case  of  deliberate  suicide.  But  he  had 
probably  survived  all  friends,  all  associations  of  home,  all  manly 
energy  and  virtue,  all  pleasure  in  even  mere  animal  enjoyment, 
all  hope  of  any  thing  better  in  life,  and  accepted  death  with 
a  reckless  insensibility  which  disarmed  it  of  fear.  He  waa 
buried  at  noon  the  next  day,  Capt.  Howland  reading  the  furieral 
lervice. 

The  next  morning  the  ehange  from  the  island  seas  of  thi 
22* 


514     "  INDIA,    CHINA   AND   JAPAN. 

Indies,  to  the  open  ocean,  was  at  once  manifest  in  the  dark-hlac 
of  the  water,  the  paleness  of  the  sky,  the  clearness  and  tracing 
freshness  of  the  air,  the  wider  stretch  of  the  horizon,  and  the 
long,  deliberate  undulations  of  the  sea,  which  gave  our  vessel  & 
motion  we  had  not  felt  for  weeks  before.  Towards  noon  the 
wind  abated,  leaving  us  swaying  uneasily  to  and  fro,  with  the 
sails  flapping  heavily  against  the  masts. 

On  Monday  evening,  the  10th  of  October,  an  unusual  inci- 
dent happened  to  us.  The  night  was  clear,  and  cooler  than 
usual,  with  a  light  breeze,  not  more  than  three  knots  at  most, 
and  the  same  heavy  swell  which  we  had  had  for  two  days  pre- 
vious. I  was  walking  the  quarter-deck  with  Mr.  Cornell,  the 
second  mate,  about  a  quarter  past  eleven  o'clock,  when  the  ship 
suddenly  stopped,  and  shook  so  violently  from  stem  to  stern  that 
every  timber  vibrated.  This  motion  was  accompanied  by  a  duU 
rumbling,  or  rather  humming  noise,  which  seemed  to  come  from 
under  the  stern.  We  were  at  first  completely  puzzled  and 
bewildered  by  this  unexpected  circumstance,  but  a  moment's 
reflection  convinced  us  that  it  proceeded  from  an  earthquake. 
Capt.  Howland  and  Mr.  Contee  came  on  deck  just  in  time  to 
feel  a  second  shock,  nearly  as  violent  as  the  first.  Those  who 
were  below  heard  a  strong  hissing  noise  at  the  vessel's  side. 
There  did  not  appear  to  be  any  unusual  agitation  of  the  water, 
notwithstanding  the  vessel  was  so  violently  shaken.  The 
length  of  time  which  elapsed,  from  first  to  last,  was  about  a 
minute  and  a  half.  The  breeze  fell  immediately  afterwards, 
and  we  had  barely  steerage  way  until  morning. 

The  sunset  on  the  following  day  was  one  of  the  most  superb 
[  ever  saw.  The  sky  was  divided  into  alternate  bands  of  pure 
blue  and  brilliant  rose  color,  streaming  upwards  and  outwardf 


THE    TRADE    WIND. 


515 


tVom  the  sun,  without  any  interfusion  or  blending  of  their  hues 
At  the  horizon  the  blue  became  amber-green,  and  then  gold, 
and  the  rose-tint  a  burning  crimson.  A  mountainous  line  of 
heavy  purple  clouds  formed  a  foreground  along  the  horizon, 
behind  which  the  rayed  sky  shone  with  indescribable  splendor, 
doubling  its  gorgeous  hues  on  the  glassy  surface  of  the  sea. 
There  was  a  dead  calm  all  night,  and  at  noon  the  reckoning 
showed  a  progress  of  twenty-eight  miles  in  twenty-four  hours. 
The  swell  was  worse  than  ever,  and  the  sails  seemed  to  be  slowly 
beating  themselves  to  pieces  against  the  masts. 

On  the  morning  of  the  14th  I  lost  a  pretty  little  parroquet 
which  I  had  bought  at  Angier.  He  had  become  so  tame  that 
I  took  him  out  of  the  cage  to  feed,  and  while  to  all  appearance 
contentedly  eating  rice  in  my  hand,  he  shot  off  suddenly,  darted 
through  the  cabin  like  a  flash,  and  out  of  one  of  the  stern-ports. 
He  was  gone  in  an  instant,  and  lost  to  me  for  ever — an  instance 
that  even  freedom  may  be  fataL  The  afternoon  was  cloudy, 
with  frequent  squalls,  but  about  midnight  the  wind  came  up 
out  of  the  south  and  increased  at  such  a  rate,  that  by  daylight 
we  were  making  twelve  knots  an  hour.  The  swell  was  still 
heavy,  the  sea  covered  with  sparkling  foam-caps,  and  the  sky 
streaked  with  flying  masses  of  cloud.  The  air  had  a  bracing, 
exhilarating  freshness  and  steadiness,  which  led  us  to  hope  that 
we  had  at  last  caught  the  long-desired  "  trades." 

Our  hopes  were  entirely  fulfilled.  My  log  of  the  voyage 
showed  the  consecutive  days'  runs  of  269,  235, 227, 261,  and  247 
miles,  during  which  time  the  ship  kept  on  her  course,  scarce 
shifting  a  sail.  The  weather  was  gloriously  clear  and  brilliant, 
urith  an  elastic  and  bracing  air,  and  a  temperature  ranging  from 
70®  to  77^*.     The  sunsets  were  magnificent ;  and  at  night  th« 


516  INDIA,    CHINA    AND   JAI  AN 

new  Southern  constellations  united  themselves  to  the  superb 
array  of  Northern  stars,  reaching  from  Taurus  to  Gemini,  and 
formed  one  sublujie  and  glittering  band  across  the  heavens.  On 
the  21st,  the  wind  abated,  and  we  made  but  148  miles,  but  it 
fre.shened  the  next  day,  and  so  held  until  the  29th,  when  we 
achieved  268  miles,  passed  the  latitude  of  Madagascar,  and 
entered  the  Mozambique  Chaiuiel.  Here  we  encountered  a 
heavy  cross-sea  and  head  current,  but  were  cheered  by  the  sight 
»f  the  Cape  pigeon  and  albatross,  which  wheeled  and  swooped 
across  our  wake,  in  lines  as  perfectly  rhythmical  and  harmo- 
aious  as  strains  of  music. 

On  the  1st  of  November,  the  wind  shifted  to  the  south-west, 
obliging  us  to  run  close-hauled.  In  the  evening  the  sea  becamo 
rery  rough,  rolling  in  long,  heavy  swells,  which  indicated  that 
we  had  entered  the  ocean  current  setting  westward  around  the 
Cape.  The  ship  plunged  so  violently  that  we  came  down  to 
double-reefed  topsails,  and  logged  less  than  five  knots.  About 
four  o'clock  the  next  morning,  while  it  was  yet  perfectly  dark, 
'jhe  air  was  so  pervaded  with  a  fresh  earthy  smell,  that  the 
Captain  tacked  and  stood  off  on  a  south-east  course.  Daylight 
showed  us  the  bold,  bleak  coast  of  Africa,  about  five  miles  dis- 
tant. We  had  made  the  land  about  fifty  miles  south  of  Port 
Natal.  At  nine  o'clock,  however,  we  tacked  again,  the  wind 
having  shifted  sufficiently  to  enable  us  to  clear  the  land, 
although  we  ran  within  eight  or  ten  miles  of  it  during  the  whole 
day.  The  coast  rose  in  long  ridges  of  bleak  hills,  which,  near 
th  sea,  were  streaked  with  fields  of  barren  sand,  but  further 
inland  were  green,  and  covered  with  thickets.  Th-re  was  not 
the  slightest  sign  of  cultivation,  and  I  should  have  considered 


SOUTHERN    CONSTELLATIONS.  517 

it  aniuhabited,  but  for  several  lar/^e  fires  which  were  buramg 
on  the  iiills. 

The  next  morning,  November  3d,  found  us  becalmed  oflF  the 
Eastern  headland  of  Algoa  Bay.     It  was  a  warm,  cloudless 
third  of  May  in  the  lower  hemisphere.     We  sounded,   and 
finding   fifty-five   fathoms,   endeavored   to   turn   the   calm  to 
account  by  fishing  for  cod;  but  after  sending  down  the  line 
four  times  and  having  two  hooks  bitten  off,  a  breeze  came  out 
of  the  east  and  began  moving  us  forward  too  fast  for  tne  sport. 
The  east  wind  nobly  befriended  us.     At  noon  on  the  4th  we 
reached  our  Southern  Ultima  Thule  (Lat.  35°   IT^  S.),  and 
headed  westward  for  the  Atlantic,  fifty  miles  from  the  African 
coast.     Cape  Lagulhas,  the  southern  extremity  of  the  Conti- 
nent,  was  97  miles  distant.     The  sky  was  cloudless,  the  sun 
warm,  the  air  deliciously  pure,  and  just  cool  enough  to  make 
walking  on  the  quarter-deck  enjoyable.     The  sea  was  smooth, 
and  no  sign  in  air  or  ocean  betokened  that  we  were  in  the 
vicinity  of  the  dreaded  Cape  of  Storms. 

At  night  the  young  moon,  Jupiter  and  Venus,  if  not 
exactly  in  conjunction,  were  so  near  it  as  to  shine  as  with  the 
light  of  a  single  planet.  But  two  or  three  degrees  distant 
from  each  other,  they  formed  a  splendid  triangle,  the  effect  of 
which,  on  the  roseate  field  of  the  austral  sunset,  was  indescriba- 
bly magnificent.  The  sky  was  intensely  clear,  and  towards 
midnight  Taurus,  Orion,  Sirius,  Canopus,  the  Southern  Cross 
and  the  Magellan  Clouds  were  all  visible  at  once,  bewildering 
the  eye  with  their  lustre.  The  next  morning  we  could  plainly 
distinguish,  though  at  a  great  distance,  the  vapors  hanging  over 
the  Cape  and  the  headlands  which  bound  False,  or  St.  Simon  s 
Bay,  on  the  east.     Towards  noon  they  were  lifted  by  the  sua; 


518  INDIA,    CHINA    ANT    JAPAN 

and  the  far,  faint,  blue  outline  of  Table  Mountain,  with  that 
of  the  four  or  five  broken  peaks  forming  the  Cape,  was  dis* 
tinctly  visible.  They  were  so  precisely  similar  to  the  pictures 
I  had  seen,  and  to  that  in  my  imagination,  that  I  recognized 
them  at  once,  with  a  feeling  of  familiar  acquaintance.  They 
slowly  passed  astern,  and  at  four  o'clock  faded  out  of  sight 
behind  us.  And  so  farewell,  savage  old  Africa  1  Shall  I  ever 
see  your  shores  again  ? 

Now,  at  last,  I  felt  that  our  prow  was  turned  homewards— 
that  our  keel  ploughed  the  Atlantic,  and  the  old  far-off  Asian 
world  lay  behind  me.  We  were  again  sailing  for  the  North 
Star,  for  the  hemisphere  where  the  strong  heart  of  the  world 
beats,  and  will  beat  for  ever  !  We  were  on  our  own  side  of  the 
globe,  and  I  felt — what  I  had  not  before  felt,  since  leaving 
China — that  every  day  was  bringing  me  nearer  home.  The 
very  sky  was  changed ;  the  sea  was  of  a  deeper  blue ;  the  waves 
danced  and  sparkled  with  a  merrier  life ;  the  clouds  gathered 
into  larger  masses  and  grouped  themselves  together  with  a  sense 
of  power,  no  longer  like  the  slumberous  vapors  of  the  East, 
smouldering  languidly  away,  in  the  fires  of  the  sun.  There 
was  a  prophecy  of  America  in  the  very  air,  and  I  invoked  a 
threefold  benediction  on  the  cold  south-wind,  which  filled  every 
inch  of  our  towering  piles  of  canvas,  and  carried  us  through  the 
night  at  twelve  knots  an  hour,  dashing  the  ocean  into  phos- 
phoric foam. 

After  making  532  miles  in  two  days,  the  wind  abated,  and 
we  dragged  along  slowly  for  three  days  more,  through  the  vaii- 
able  latitudes,  before  taking  the  trade-winds  again.  The  alba- 
tross and  Cape  pigeon  followed  us,  past  their  usual  latitudes, 
until  the  increase  of  temperature,  in  the  neighborhood  of  the 


A    SLAVER.  51S 

Tropics,  warned  them  to  return.  The  trade- wind,  which  w( 
took  on  the  10th  of  November,  was  rather  sluggish,  and  even 
with  the  addition  of  sky-sails  and  royal  studding-sails,  our  pace 
was  languid.  The  sea  was  unusually  calm,  and  the  swells  over 
whioh  we  expected  to  be  "  rolling  down  to  St.  Helena,"  accord- 
ing to  the  sailor's  ditty,  did  not  make  their  appearance.  No 
voyaging  could  be  calmer  and  more  agreeable,  and  our  routine 
of  life  had  come  to  be  so  settled  and  unvarying,  that  the  day 
slipped  by  unawares.  I  employed  this  period  of  quiet  and  iso- 
lation in  recalling  and  rewriting  a  large  package  of  letters, 
descriptive  of  things  in  India  and  China,  which  had  gone  down 
in  the  steamer  Lewiston,  in  the  China  Sea.  Floating  over  that 
sleepy,  deserted  sea — for  we  saw  but  a  single  vessel — I  was 
enabled  to  reproduce  the  Past  so  vividly  that  not  a  feature  was 
wanting,  and,  almost  word  for  word,  the  lost  letters  were 
restored. 

On  the  morning  of  the  11th  we  passed  the  meridian  of 
Greenwich,  and  began  to  count  western  longitude.  The  only 
other  incident  was  the  sight  of  a  rakish-looking  brig,  which 
passed  several  miles  astern.  Mr.  Contee,  who  had  made  a 
cruise  in  the  African  Squadron,  at  once  pronounced  her  to  be  a 
slavor,  Her  movements  betrayed  an  evident  anxiety  to  avoid 
no. 


CHAPTEE    XLIII. 

A    DAT    AT    BT.     HELEHA. 

rtopoeed  CaU  ftt  8t  Helena— First  View  of  the  Island— Its  Cllflb— Approach  to  Jime» 
town— View  from  the  Anchorage — Landing — The  Town  and  Eavine— Ascending 
the  Gorge — Looking  Down—"  The  Briars '" — Summit  of  the  Island— Pastoral  Land- 
scape— Sea- View — Approach  to  Longwood— Reception- The  Billlard-Eoom— ^cene 
of  Napoleon's  Death— His  Bedroom — Desecration  of  Longwood— The  New  Resi- 
dence—The Longwood  Farm— The  "  Crown  and  Rose  " — National  Peculiarities— 
The  Grave  of  Napoleon — The  Old  Woman's  Welcome — Condition  of  the  Grave- 
st Helena  Literature — The  Old  Woman's  Admirable  Story — Napoleon's  Spring— 
Retam  to  JameAtown— Departure  ttaia  the  Island. 

The  three  passengers  on  board  the  Sea  Serpent  were  greatlj 
delighted  to  learn  from  Capt.  Howland,  on  the  liay  when  we 
crossed  the  Tropic  of  Capricorn,  that  the  water  was  getting 
short,  and  he  had  therefore  decided  to  touch  at  St.  Helena  for 
a  fresh  supply.  We  had  already  been  more  than  sixty  days 
on  board,  and  the  sea,  with  all  its  wonderful  fascination,  was 
growing  monotonous.  Here  was  an  event  which,  in  addition 
to  its  positive  interest,  would  give  us  at  least  five  days  of  anti 
cipation  and  a  week  of  active  remembrance,  virtually  shorten- 
mg  our  voyage  to  that  extent ;  for  at  sea  we  measure  time  less 
by  the  calendar  than  bv  our  individual  sense  of  its  duration. 


BT.    HELENA.  521 

I  have  spent  several  montlis  on  shipboard,  when,  according  to 
the  almanac,  barely  a  fortnight  had  elapsed. 

The  trade- wind  bore  us  slowly  northward,  and  when  I  went 
OD  deck  at  sunrise,  on  the  14th  of  November,  St.  Helena  was 
in  sight,  about  twenty-five  miles  distant.  It  was  a  dark-blue 
mass,  filling  about  twenty  degrees  of  the  horizon,  and  of  nearly 
ttniform  elevation  above  the  sea,  but  gradually  resolved  itself 
into  sharper  and  more  broken  outlines  as  we  approached. 
Except  upon  a  lofty  terrace  on  the  southern  side,  where  there 
was  a  tinge  of  green  and  some  traces  of  fields,  the  coast  pre- 
sented a  frightfully  rocky  and  inhospitable  appearance.  Nev- 
ertheless it  displayed  some  grand  efiects  of  coloring.  The 
walls  of  naked  rock,  several  hundred  feet  high,  which  rose 
boldly  from  the  sea,  in  some  places  overhanging  their  base, 
were  tinted  as  by 

"  the  deep-blue  gloom 
Of  thunder-shower," 

the  hollow  chasms  between  them  being  filled  with  gorgeous 
masses  of  purple-black  shadow,  under  the  sultry  clouds  which 
hung  over  the  island.  At  the  south-eastern  extremity  were 
two  pointed,  isolated  rocks,  probably  a  hundred  fe^t  high. 
We  stood  arouud  the  opposite  extremity  of  the  island,  making 
for  the  port  of  Jamestown,  which  faces  the  north-west.  The 
coast  on  this  side  rises  into  two  bold  heads,  one  of  wly'sh  pro- 
jects outward  like  a  gigantic  ^^apstan,  while  the  othe^r  runs 
slantingly  up  to  a  pointed  top,  which  is  crowned  with  a  signal 
station.  The  rock  has  a  dark,  bluish-slate  color,  with  streaks 
of  a  warm  reddish-brown,  and  the  strata,  burst  apart  in  the 
centre,  yet  slanting  upward  toward  each  other  like  the  sides  of 


522  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

a  Tolcaoo,  tell  of  upheaval  by  some  tremendous  subterranear 
agency.  The  structure  of  the  island  is  purely  volcanio,  and 
except  the  rock  of  Aden,  on  the  coast  of  Arabia,  I  never  sa^ 
a  more  forbidding  spot. 

The  breeze  increased  as  we  drew  near  the  island,  but  when 
we  ran  under  the  lee  of  the  great  cliffs,  fell  away  almosi 
entirely,  so  that  we  drifted  lazily  along  within  half  a  mile  of 
them.  At  length  a  battery  hove  in  sight,  hewn  in  the  face  of 
the  precipice,  and  anchored  vessels,  one  by  one,  came  out 
behind  the  point.  We  stood  off  a  little,  urged  along  by  occa- 
sional flaws  of  wind,  and  in  a  short  time  the  shallow  bight 
which  forms  the  roadstead  of  St.  Helena  lay  before  us.  There 
was  another  battery  near  at  hand,  at  the  foot  of  a  deep,  barren 
glen,  called  Rupert's  Valley,  from  which  a  road,  notched  in  the 
rock,  leads  around  the  intervening  cliffs  to  the  gorge,  at  the 
bottom  of  which  Jamestown  is  built.  A  sea-wall  across  the 
mouth  of  this  gorge,  a  row  of  ragged  trees,  weather-beaten  by 
the  gales  of  the  Atlantic,  and  the  spire  of  a  church,  were  all 
that  appeared  of  the  town.  The  walls  of  the  fort  crowned  the 
lofty  cliff  above,  and  high  behind  them  towered  the  signal 
station,  on  the  top  of  a  conical  peak,  the  loftiest  in  the  island. 
The  stone  ladder  which  leads  from  the  tower  to  the  fort  was 
marked  on  the  face  of  the  cliff  like  a  white  ribbon  unrolled 
from  its  top.  Inland,  a  summit  covered  with  dark  pine-trees, 
from  the  midst  of  which  glimmered  the  white  front  of  a  coun- 
try mansion,  rose  above  the  naked  heights  of  the  shore.  This 
was  t  *e  only  gleam  of  fertility  which  enlivened  the  terrible 
sterility  of  the  view. 

Further  in-shore  a  few  gun-boats  and  water-boats  lay  at 
anchor,  and  some  fishing-skiffs  were  pulling  about.     As  w« 


VISIT    TO    LONGWOOD.  523 

forged  slowly  along  to  a  good  anchoring  ground,  the  Americau 
consul  came  off,  followed  by  a  boarding-officer,  ind  jre  at  once 
received  permission  to  go  ashore  and  make  the  most  of  our 
short  stay.  The  consul's  boat  speedily  conveyed  us  to  the  land- 
ing-place, at  the  eastern  extremity  of  the  town.  Every  thing 
had  a  dreary  and  deserted  air.  There  were  half-a-dozen  men 
and  boys,  with  Portuguese  features  and  uncertain  complexions, 
about  the  steps,  a  red-coated  soldier  at  a  sentry-box,  and  two  or 
three  lonely-looking  individuals  under  the  weather-beaten  treea 
Passing  a  row  of  mean  houses,  built  against  the  overhanging 
rock,  a  drawbridge  over  a  narrow  moat  admitted  us  within  the 
walls.  A  second  wall  and  gate,  a  short  distance  further,  ushered 
us  into  the  public  square  if  Jamestown.  Even  at  its  outlet, 
the  valley  is  not  more  than  a  hundred  and  fifty  yards  wide,  and 
the  little  town  is  crowded,  or  rather  jammed,  deep  in  its  bot- 
tom, between  nearly  perpendicular  cliffs,  seven  or  eight  hundred 
feet  in  height.  At  the  top  of  the  square  is  the  church,  a  plain 
yellowish  structure,  with  a  tall,  square,  pointed  spire ;  and 
beyond  it  Market  street,  the  main  thoroughfare  of  the  little 
place,  opens  up  the  valley. 

A  carriage — almost  the  only  one  in  Jamestown — was  pro- 
cured for  Mrs.  Howland ;  my  fellow-passenger,  Parkman,  pro- 
vided himself  with  a  saddle-horse,  and  we  set  out  for  Longwood. 
We  had  a  mounted  Portuguese  postillion,  and  rattled  up  the 
steep  and  stony  main  street  in  a  style  which  drew  upon  us  the 
eyes  of  all  Jamestown.  The  road  soon  left  the  town,  ascending 
the  right  side  of  the  ravine  by  a  very  long  and  steep  grade. 
Behind  the  town  are  the  barracks  of  the  soldiery  and  theii 
ijarade-ground — all  on  a  cramped  and  contracted  scale;  then 
some  dreary  burial-grounds,  the  graves  in  which  resembled 


524  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

heaps  of  cinders ;  then  a  few  private  mansions,  and  green  gai 
den-patclies,  winding  upwards  for  a  mile  or  more.  The  deptl 
and  narrowness  of  the  gorge  completely  shut  out  the  air ;  the 
heat  was  radiated  powerfully  from  its  walls  of  black  volcani 
rock,  and  the  bristling  cacti  and  yuccas  by  the  roadside,  with 
full-crowned  cocoa-palms  below,  gave  it  a  fiery,  savage,  tropical 
character.  The  peak  of  the  signal-station  loomed  high  above 
us  from  the  opposite  side,  and  now  the  head  of  the  ravine — a 
precipice  several  hundred  feet  high,  over  which  fell  a  silver 
thread  of  water — came  into  sight.  This  water  supplies  the 
town  and  shipping,  beside  fertilizing  the  gardens  in  the  bed  of 
the  ravine.  It  is  clear  as  crystal,  and  of  the  sweetest  and 
freshest  quality.  Looking  backward,  we  saw  the  spire  of  the 
little  church  at  the  bottom  projected  against  the  blue  plain  of 
ocean,  the  pigmy  hulls  of  the  vessels  in  the  roads,  and  a  great 
triangular  slice  of  sea,  which  grew  wider  and  longer  as  we 
ascended,  until  the  horizon  was  full  fifty  miles  distant. 

Near  the  top  of  the  ravine  there  is  a  natural  terrace  about 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  in  length,  lying  opposite  to  the  cascade.  It 
contains  a  few  small  fields,  divided  by  scrubby  hedges,  and, 
near  the  further  end,  two  pleasant  dwelluig-houses,  surrounded 
by  a  garden  in  which  I  saw  some  fine  orange-trees.  This  is 
"  The  Briars,"  memorable  for  having  been  Napoleon's  first  res- 
idence on  the  island.  The  Balcombe  family  occupied  the 
larger  of  the  two  dwellings,  which  is  flanked  by  tall  Italian 
cypresses,  while  the  other  building,  which  was  then  a  summei 
pavilion,  but  was  afterwards  enlarged  to  accommodate  the  Em 
peror  and  his  suite,  received  him  on  the  very  night  of  his  land- 
mg  from  the  Bellerophon.  It  stands  on  a  little  knoll,  over- 
looking a  deep  glen,  which  debouches  into  the  main  valley  juaf 


THE   GRAVE   OF   NAPOLEON.  62.') 

belo^.  The  place  is  cheerful  though  solitary ;  it  has  a  sheL 
tered,  ':imiiy  aspect,  compared  with  the  bleak  heights  of  Long- 
wood,  and  I  do  not  wonder  that  the  great  exile  left  it  with 
regret.  Miss  Balcombe's  account  of  Napoleon's  sojourn  at 
"  The  Briars,"  is  among  the  most  striking  reminiscences  of  his 
life  on  the  island. 

Just  above  the  terrace  the  road  turned,  and,  after  a  short 
ascent,  gained  the  crest  of  the  ridge,  where  the  grade  became 
easier,  and  the  cool  south-east  trade-wind,  blowing  over  the 
height,  refreshed  us  after  the  breathless  heat  of  the  ravine. 
The  road  was  bordered  with  pine-trees,  and  patches  of  soft 
green  turf  took  the  place  cf  the  volcanic  dust  and  cinders. 
The  flower-stems  of  the  aloe-plants,  ten  feet  in  height,  had 
already  begun  to  wither,  but  the  purple  buds  of  the  cactus  were 
opening,  and  thick  clusters  of  a  watery,  succulent  plant  were 
starred  with  white,  pink,  and  golden  blossoms.  We  had  now 
attained  the  central  upland  of  the  island,  which  slopes  down- 
ward in  all  directions  to  the  summit  of  the  sea-wall  of  cliffs 
On  emerging  again  from  the  wood,  a  landscape  of  a  very  dif- 
ferent character  met  our  view.  Over  a  deep  valley,  the  sidea 
of  which  were  alternately  green  with  turf  and  golden  with 
patches  of  blossoming  broom,  we  looked  upon  a  ridge  of  table 
land  three  or  four  miles  long,  near  the  extremity  of  which,  sur- 
rounded by  a  few  straggling  trees,  we  saw  the  houses  of  Long- 
wood.  In  order  to  reach  them,  it  was  necessary  to  pass  around 
the  head  of  the  intervening  valley.  In  this  direction  the  land- 
scape was  green  and  fresh,  dotted  with  groves  of  pine  and  white 
country-houses.  Flocks  of  sheep  grazed  on  the  turfy  hill-sideSj 
and  a  few  cows  and  horses  ruminated  among  the  clumps  of 
iroom.     Down  in  the  bottom  of  the  vaDey,  I  noticed  a  small 


526  I2n>lA,    CHINA|    ASD   JAPAN. 

enclosure,  planted  with  Italian  cypresses,  and  with  a  squaw 
white  object  in  the  centre.  It  did  not  need  the  postillion's 
words  to  assure  me  that  I  looked  upon  the  Grave  of  Napoleon 

Looking  eastward  towards  the  sea,  the  hills  became  bar* 
and  red,  gashed  with  chasms  and  falling  off  in  tremendous  pre 
oipices,  the  height  of  which  we  would  only  guess  from  the  dim 
blue  of  the  great  sphere  of  sea,  whose  far-off  horizon  was  drawn 
above  their  summits,  so  that  we  seemed  to  stand  in  the  centre 
of  a  vast  concavity.  In  color,  form,  and  magnificent  desola- 
tion, these  hills  called  to  my  mind  the  mountain  region  sur- 
rounding the  Dead  Sea.  Clouds  rested  upon  the  high,  pine- 
wooded  summits  to  the  west  of  us,  and  the  broad,  sloping  val* 
ley,  on  the  other  side  of  the  ridge  of  Longwood,  was  as  green 
as  a  dell  of  Switzerland.  The  view  of  those  fresh  pasture 
slopes,  with  their  flocks  of  sheep,  their  groves  and  cottages,  was 
all  the  more  delightful  from  its  being  wholly  unexpected. 
Where  the  ridge  joins  the  hills,  and  one  can  look  into  both 
valleys  at  the  same  time,  there  is  a  small  tavern,  with  the 
familiar  English  sign  of  the  "  Crown  and  Rose."  Our  road 
now  led  eastward  along  the  top  of  the  ridge,  over  a  waste  tract 
eovered  with  clumps  of  broom,  for  another  mile  and  a  half 
when  we  reached  the  gate  of  the  Longwood  Farm.  A  broad 
avenue  of  trees,  which  all  lean  inland  from  the  stress  of  the 
trade-wind,  conducts  to  the  group  of  buildings,  on  a  bleak  spot, 
overlooking  the  sea,  and  exposed  to  the  full  force  of  the  wind. 
Our  wheels  rolled  over  a  thick,  green  turf,  the  freshness  of 
which  showed  how  unfrequent  must  be  the  visits  of  strangers. 

On  reaching  the  gate,  a  small  and  very  dirty  boy,  with  a 
milk-and-molasses  complexion,  brought  out  to  us  a  notice 
pasted  on  a  board,  intimating  that  those  who  wished  to  see  the 


napoleon's  apartments.  521 


resideDce  of  the  Emperor  Napoleon  must  pay  two  sliiUingJ 
a-piece  in  advance ;  children  half-price.     A  neat  little  English 
woman  of  that  uncertain  age  which  made  me  hesitate  to  ast 
her  whether  she  had  ever  seen  the  Emperor,  was  in  attendance, 
to  receive  the  fees  and  act  as  cicerone.    We  alighted  at  a  small 
green  verandah,  facing  a  wooden  wing  which  projects  from  the 
eastern  front  of  the  building.     The  first  room  we  entered  was 
whitewashed,  and  covered  all  over  with  the  names  of  visitors, 
in  charcoal,  pencil,  and  red  chalk.     The  greater  part  of  them 
were  French.     "  This,"  said  the  little  woman,  "  was  the  Em- 
peror's billiard-room,  built  after  he  came  to  live  at  Longwood. 
The  walls  have  three  or  four  times  been  covered  with  names, 
and  whitewashed  over."     A  door  at  the  further  end  admitted 
us  into  the  drawing-room,  in  which  Napoleon  died.     The  ceil- 
ing was  broken  away,  and  dust  and  cobwebs  covered  the  bare 
rafters.     The  floor  was  half-decayed,  almost  invisible  through 
the  dirt  which  covered  it,  and  the  plastering,  falling  off,  dis- 
closed in  many  places  the  rough  stone  walls.     A  winnowing- 
mill  and  two  or  three  other  farming  utensils,  stood  in  the  cor- 
ners.    The  window  looked  into  a  barn-yard  filled  with  mud 
and  dung.     Stretched  on  a  sofa,  with  his  head  beside  this  win- 
dow, the°great  conqueror,  the  "  modern  Sesostris,"  breathed  hi. 
last,  amid  the  delirium  of  fancied  battle  and  the  bowlings  of  a 
storm  which  shook  the  island.     The  comer-stone  of  the  jamb, 
nearest  which  his  head  lay,  has  been  quarried  out  of  the  wall, 
and  taken  to  France. 

Beyond  this  was  the  dining-room,  now  a  dark,  dirty  barn 
aoor,  filled  to  tue  rafters  with  straw  and  refuse  timbers.  W< 
passed  out  into  a  cattle-yard,  and  entered  the  Emperor's  bed- 
room.     A  horse  and  three  cows  were  comfortably  stalled  ther» 


628  INDIA,    CHINA,    AKD    JAPAN. 

in,  and  the  floor  of  mud  and  loose  stones  wa?  corered  witl 
dung  and  litter.  "  Here,"  said  the  guide,  pointing  to  an  un^ 
asuallj  filthy  stall  in  one  corner,  "  was  the  Emperor's  bath- 
room. Mr.  Solomon  (a  Jew  in  Jamestown)  has  the  marble 
bathing-tub  he  used.  Yonder  was  his  dressing  room  " — a  big 
brinded  calf  was  munching  some  grass  in  the  very  sp  t — "  and 
here ''  (pointing  to  an  old  cow  in  the  nearest  comer)  ^'  his  at- 
tendant slept."  So  miserable,  so  mournfully  wretched  was  the 
condition  of  the  place,  that  I  regretted  not  having  been  content 
with  an  outside  view  of  Longwood.  On  the  other  side  of  the 
cattle-yard  stands  the  houses  which  were  inhabited  by  Count 
Montholon,  Las  Casas,  and  Dr.  O'Meara ;  but  at  present  they 
are  shabby,  tumble-down  sheds,  whose  stone  walls  alone  have 
preserved  their  existence  to  this  day.  On  the  side  facing 
the  sea,  there  are  a  few  pine-trees,  under  which  is  a  small 
crescent-shaped  fish-pond,  dry  and  nearly  filled  with  earth  and 
weeds.  Here  the  Emperor  used  to  sit  and  feed  his  tame  fish. 
The  sky,  ov-jrcast  with  clouds,  and  the  cold  wind  which  blew 
steadily  from  the  sea,  added  to  the  desolation  of  the  place. 

Passing  through  the  garden,  which  is  neglected,  like  the 
house,  and  running  to  waste,  we  walked  to  the  new  building 
erected  by  the  Government  for  Napoleon's  use,  but  which  he 
never  inhabited.  It  is  a  large  quadrangle,  one  ?tory  high, 
plain  but  commodious,  and  with  some  elegance  in  its  arrange 
ment.  It  has  been  once  or  twice  occupied  as  a  residence,  but 
is  now  decaying  from  very  neglect.  Standing  under  the  brow 
of  the  hill,  it  is  sheltered  from  the  wind,  and  much  more  cheer- 
ful in  every  respect  than  the  old  mansion.  We  were  conducted 
through  the  empty  chambers,  intended  for  billiard,  dining, 
drawing,  and  bed-rooms.     In  the  bath-room,  where  yet  stands 


MILDNESS   OF   AMERICAN   CHABACTEB.  529 

the  woodea  case  which  enclosed  the  marble  tub,  a  flock  of 
geese  were  luxuriating.  The  curtains  which  hung  at  the  win- 
dows were  diopi)iiig  to  pieces  from  rot,  and  in  many  of  the 
rooms  the  plastering  was  cracked  and  mildewed  by  *he  leakage 
of  lains  through  the  roof.  Near  the  building  is  a  neat  cottage, 
in  whicli  Geiu  ral  Bertrand  and  his  family  formeilj  resided.  It 
is  now  occupied  hj  the  gentleman  who  leases  the  farm  of  Lou't- 
«vood  from  the  Government.  The  farm  is  the  largest  on  the 
island,  containing  one  thousand  acres,  and  is  rented  at  £315  a 
year.  Th<^  u[)lands  around  the  house  are  devoted  to  the  rais- 
mg  of  oats  and  barley,  but  grazing  is  the  principal  source  of 
profit. 

I  plucked  some  branches  of  geranium  and  fragrant  helio- 
trope from  the  garden,  and  we  set  out  on  our  return.  I  pre- 
vailed upon  Mr.  Parkman  to  take  my  place  in  the  carriage,  and 
give  me  his  horse  as  far  as  the  "  Crown  and  Rose,"  thereby 
securing  an  inspiring  gallop  of  nearly  two  miles.  Two  Eng- 
lishmen, of  the  lower  order,  had  charge  of  the  tavern,  and 
while  I  was  taking  a  glass  of  ale,  one  of  them  touched  his  hat 
very  respectfully,  and  said:  "  Axin'  your  pardon,  sir,  are  you 
from  the  States?*'  I  answered  in  the  affirmative.  "There!" 
baid  he,  turning  to  the  other  and  clapping  his  hands,  "  I  knew 
it ;  I've  won  the  bet."  "  What  were  your  reasons  for  think- 
ing me  an  American  ? "  I  asked.  "  Why,"  said  he,  "  the  gen- 
tlemen  from  the  States  are  always  so  mild!  I  knowed  you  was 
one  before  you  gut  oft"  the  horse." 

We  sent  the  carriage  on  by  the  road,  to  await  us  on  the  othei 

side  of  the  glen,  and  proceeded  on  foot  to  the  Grave.    The  path 

led  down  through  a   garden   filled  with  roses  and  heliotropes 

The  peach-trees  were  in  blossom,  and  the  tropical  loquat^  which 

23 


530  INDIA,    CHINA,    AND    JAPAN. 

L  bad  seen  growing  in  India  and  China,  hung  full  of  ripe  yellow 
fruit.  As  we  approached  tho  little  enclosure  at  the  bottom  of 
the  glen,  I,  who  was  in  advance,  was  hailed  by  a  voice  crying 
out,  "  This  way,  sir,  this  way  1  "  and,  looking  down,  saw  at 
the  gate  a  diminutive,  wrinkled,  old,  grizzly-headed,  semi-negro 
semi-Portuguese  woman,  whom  I  at  once  recognized  as  th 
custodienae  of  the  tomb,  from  descriptions  which  the  officers  ol 
the  Mississippi  had  given  me.  "  Ah !  there  you  are  !  "  said  I; 
"  I  knew  it  must  be  you."  "  Why,  Captain  1 "  she  exclaimed  • 
"  is  that  you  ?  How  you  been  this  long  while  ?  I  didn't 
know  you  was  a-comin',  or  I  would  ha'  put  on  a  better  dress, 
for,  you  see,  I  was  a-washin'  to-day.  "Dickey  !  " — addressing 
a  great,  fat,  white  youth  of  twenty-two  or  twenty-three,  with  a 
particularly  stupid  and  vacant  face — "  run  up  to  the  garden, 
and  git  two  or  three  of  the  finest  hokys  as  ever  you  can,  for  the 
Captain  and  the  ladies !  " 

At  the  gate  of  the  enclosure  hung  a  placard,  calling  upon 
all  visitors  to  pay,  in  advance,  the  sum  of  one  shilling  and  six- 
pence each,  before  approaching  the  tomb  This  touching  tes- 
timony of  respect  having  been  complied  with,  we  were  al- 
lowed to  draw  near  to  the  empty  vault,  which,  for  twenty 
years,  enshrined  the  corpse  of  Napoleon.  It  is  merely  an  ob- 
long shaft  of  masonry,  about  twelve  feet  deep,  and  with  a  rude 
roof  thrown  over  the  mouth,  to  prevent  it  being  filled  by  the 
rains.  A  little  railing  surroimds  it,  and  the  space  between  is 
planted  with  geraniums  and  scarlet  salvias.  Two  willows — one 
of  which  has  been  so  stript  by  travellers,  that  nothing  but  the 
trunk  is  left — shade  the  spot,  and  half-a-dozen  monumental 
cypresses  lift  their  tall  obelisks  around.  A  flight  of  steps  leads 
bo  the  bottom  of  the  vault,  where  the  bed  of  masonry  which 


DESECRATION    OF    NAPOLEON^S    TOMB.  531 

enclosed  the  coffin  still  remains.  I  descended  to  the  lowest 
step,  and  there  found,  hanging  against  the  damp  wall,  a  writtei« 
tablet  stating  that  the  old  woman,  then  waiting  for  me  at  the 
top,  told  an  admirable  and  excellent  story  about  the  burial  of 
Napoleon,  which  travellers  would  do  well  to  extract  from  her 
and  that  one  shilling  was  but  a  fair  compensation  for  the 
pleasure  she  would  afford  them.  Appended  to  the  announce- 
ment were  the  following  lines,  which  I  transcribed  on  the 
«pot ; 

*'  FiEMLT  strike  my  bounding  lyre, 
Poet's  muse  can  never  tire, 
Nosegays  gay  and  flowers  so  wild, 
Climate  good  and  breezes  mild, 
Humbly  ask  a  shilling,  please. 
Before  the  stranger  sails  the  seas. 
Napoleon  -was  in  love  with  a  lady  so  true. 
He  gave  her  a  gold  ring  set  with  diamonds  and  pearis, 
Which  was  worthy  the  honors  of  many  brave  earls. 
But  she  died,  it  is  said,  in  her  bloom  and  her  beauty. 
So  his  love  broken-hearted 
For  ever  was  parted. 
He  drank  of  the  spring  and  its  water  so  clear. 
Which  was  reserved  for  his  use,  and  he  held  it  most  3 ear. 
So  he  died,  so  he  died. 
In  the  bloom  of  his  pride. 
In  his  life  he  sat  under  yon  lone  willow-tree, 
And  studied  the  air,  the  earth,  and  the  sea ; 
His  arms  were  akimbo,  his  thoughts  far  away. 
He  lived  six  months  at  the  house  on  the  hill,  at  hia 

friend's,  the  brave  General  Bertband  by  u  ame.  and 
from  thence  he  would  come 
To  visit  the  spot. 
And  stand  in  deep  thought. 
Forgotten  or  not  * 


682  INDIA,   CHINA,  AND  JAPAN. 

If  I  had   been  saddened  by  the  neglect  of   Longwoed,  1 

was  disgusted  by  the  profanation  of  the  tomb.  Is  there  not 
enough  re\  erence  in  St.  Helena,  to  prevent  the  grave  which  » 
great  name  has  hallowed,  from  being  defiled  with  such  abomi- 
nable doggerel  ?  And  there  was  the  old  womar;,  who,  having 
Been  me  read  the  notice,  immediately  commenced  her  admirable 
and  inteie-ting  story  in  this  wise  :  *'  Six  years  he  lived  upon 
the  island.  He  came  here  in  1815,  and  he  died  in  1821.  Six 
years  he  lived  upon  the  island.  He  was  buried  with  his  head 
to  the  east.  This  is  the  east.  His  feet  was  to  the  west.  This 
IB  the  west.  Where  you  see  that  brown  dirt,  there  was  his 
head.  He  wanted  to  be  buried  beside  his  wife  Josephine ; 
but,  as  that  couldn't  be  done,  he  was  put  here.  They  put  him 
here  because  he  used  to  come  down  here  with  a  silver  mug  in 
his  pocket,  and  take  a  drink  out  of  that  spring.  That's  the 
reason  he  was  buried  here.  There  was  a  guard  of  a  sergeant 
and  six  men  up  there  on  the  hill  all  the  time  he  was  down  here 
a-drinkin'  out  of  the  spring  with  his  silver  mug.  This  was  the 
way  he  walked."  Here  the  old  woman  folded  her  arms,  tossed 
back  her  grizzly  head,  and  strode  to  and  fro  with  so  ludicrous  an 
attempt  at  di«:nity,  that,  in  ^pite  of  myself,  I  was  forced  into 
laughter.  "Did  you  ever  see  him?"  1  asked.  '' Yes,  Cap- 
tain," said  she,  "  I  seed  him  a  many  a  time,  and  I  always  said, 
*  Good  mornin',  Sir,'  but  he  never  had  no  conversation  with 
me."  A  draught  of  the  cool  and  delicious  lymph  of  Napo- 
leon's Spring  completed  the  farce.  I  broke  a  sprig  from  one 
of  the  cypresses,  wiote  my  name  in  the  visitor's  book,  took  the 
"boky"  of  gillyflowers  and  marigolds,  which  Dickey  had  col- 
lected, and  slowly  remounted  the  opposite  side  of  the  glen 
My  thoughts  involuntarily  turned  from  the  desecrated  grave  t€ 


DEPARTURE  FROM  ST.  HELENA.  683 

that  fitting  sepulchre  where  he  now  rests  under  the  bannere  of 
a  hundred  victorious  battle-fields,  and  guarded  by  the  timinvorn 
remnant  of  his  ftiithful  Old  Guard.  Let  Longwood  be  levellea 
to  the  earth, and  the  emptv  grave  be  filled  up  and  turfed  over! 
Better  that  the-e  memorials  of  England's  treachery  should  be 
Been  no  more  ! 

We  hastened  Iiack  to  Jamestown,  as  it  was  near  sunset. 
The  long  shadows  already  filled  the  ravine,  and  the  miniaHire 
gardens  and  >t!eets  below  were  more  animated  than  during  the 
still  heat  of  the  afternoon,  (japi.  rfowiand  was  waiting  for  us, 
as  the  ship  was  ready  to  sail.  Before  it  was  quite  dark,  we 
had  weighed  anchor,  and  were  slowly  drifting  away  fiom  the 
desolate  crags  of  the  island.  The  next  morning  we  saw  again 
the  old  unbroken  ring  of  the  sea. 


CHAPTEB    XLIV. 

HOMEWABD. 

Trade  Weathei  -Phosphorescence  of  the  Sea— Ocean  Nymphs— Butterflies  In  Mid- 
Ocean— The  North-East  Trades— A  Gale  ofiF  the  Bermndas— Nautical  Alms-GIvinj 
—The  Gulf  Stream— Escape  from  Cape  Hatteras— Fair  Wind— "Winter  Weatbe»>- 
The  Last  Day  of  the  Voyage — Landing  in  N«w  York — Retrospect. 

For  tliree  days  after  leaving  St.  Helena  we  had  calm,  sluggish 
weather,  but  on  the  17th  took  the  trade- wind  again,  and  for  five 
days  thereafter  averaged  200  miles  a  day.  The  wmd  was 
steady,  dead  astern,  and  the  sea  calm,  with  very  little  swell. 
The  sky  was  overcast,  and  the  atmosphere  sultry,  with  a  tern 
perature  ranging  from  80°  to  85°.  Flying-fish  appeared  in 
greater  quantities  than  I  ever  noticed  before.  The  phospho- 
rescence of  the  sea  was  wonderful.  The  first  half  of  the  night 
was  dark,  as  the  moon  was  entering  her  last  quarter,  and  the 
ship's  wake  was  a  dazzling  trail  of  silver  fire.  The  rudder 
dashed  out  of  the  darkness  clusters  of  luminous  globes  about 
six  inches  in  diameter,  which  scattered  and  spread,  growing 
brighter  as  they  approached  the  surface.  The  light  rippling  of 
the  waves,  far  and  wide,  kindled  brilliant  sparkles,  which  stud 


TH£   NORTH-BAST    TiiADEb  536 

ded  the  watery  firmament  like  stars,  to  which  the  long,  wavy, 
sliming  wake  of  our  vessel  formed  the  Milky  Way.  One  who 
leaned  over  the  stern  asked  me  whether  those  fiery  globes  were 
not  the  astral  lamps  with  which  the  Undines  lighted  their  sub 
oceanic  caverns;  but  I  refused  to  accept  the  fancy.  The 
imagination  positively  forbids  any  such  poetical  creatures  to 
inhabit  the  vast  desert  spaces  of  ocean.  The  Undines  are  the 
nymphs  of  rivers  and  fountains ;  the  mermaid  only  haunts  the 
shore.  The  mid-sea  is  too  vast,  too  cold  in  its  barren  sublimity, 
to  be  peopled  by  human  dreams. 

At  midnight,  on  the  24th  of  December,  we  crossed  the 
Equator  in  Long.  30°  W.,  having  been  fifty-nine  days  in  the 
Southern  Hemisphere.  We  hoped  "o  have  taken  the  north-east 
trades  soon  afterwards,  but  were  tantalized  for  a  week  with 
calms,  and  light,  variable  winds,  during  which  we  did  not 
average  more  than  125  miles  a  day.  On  the  1st  of  December, 
in  Lat.  12°  N.  a  large  butterfly  and  two  dragon-flies  came  on 
board.  The  nearest  land,  the  coast  of  Guiana,  was  more  than 
900  miles  distant.  I  have  never  seen  it  stated  that  these  insects 
are  capable  of  such  long  flights. 

We  had  been  on  board  the  Sea  Serpent  eighty-one  days,  and 
our  hopes  of  spending  Christmas  at  home  were  rapidly  dimin- 
ishing, when  the  long-desired  trade-wind  struck  us.  On  the  2d 
of  December  we  made  216  miles;  on  the  3d,  265  miles;  and 
on  the  4th,  three  hundred  miles,  which  was  our  best  day's  run 
during  the  voyage.  Our  good  ship  fairly  whistled  through  the 
water,  cutting  her  way  so  smoothly  that  there  was  scarcely 
foam  enough  before  her  bows  to  throw  a  scud  over  the  fore- 
castle, or  wake  enough  behind  her  stern  to  tell  that  she  had 
passed      The  beautiful  wave-lines  of  her  counter  allowed  the 


586  Iin>IA,    CHINA)    AND    JAPAN. 

dead  water  to  close  as  passively  as  if  the  ocean  had  not  beec 

disturbed. 

On  the  morniug  of  December  the  11th,  in  Lat  32°  N.  and 
off  the  lee  3f  the  Bermudas,  the  wind  hauled  round  to  the 
north-west  and  blew  half  a  gale  for  the  two  following  days, 
during  which  we  ran  westward  under  close-reefed  topsails.  So 
it  came  to  pass  that  on  the  14th  we  were  two  degrees  west  of 
New  York,  and  somewhere  off  Darien,  in  Georgia.  The  wind 
then  shifted  more  to  the  westward,  and  by  noon  on  the  16th, 
we  were  in  the  edge  of  the  Gulf  Stream,  about  75  miles  to  the 
south-east  of  Cape  Fear  Three  or  four  vessels  bound  north, 
were  in  sight,  apparently  driven  under  the  lee  of  Cape  Hat- 
teras,  like  ourselves,  by  the  violence  of  the  northern  gale.  In 
the  afternoon,  an  hermaphrodite  brig,  which  had  risen  on  the 
weather  bow,  stood  down  towards  us  and  we  saw  a  boat  put  off 
from  her.  We  suspected  at  first  that  the  brig  might  be  a  relief 
vessel,  but  were  soon  undeceived  by  the  boat  coming  alongside. 
A  raw,  rough  fellow,  in  a  flannel  shirt  and  red  cap,  came  over 
the  side,  and  stated  that  the  brig  was  a  Nova  Scotian,  bound 
from  Magna  to  Cape  Breton,  had  been  out  twenty  days,  and 
had  but  four  days'  provisions  on  board.  He  was  on  a  begging 
errand,  and  was  successful  enough  to  get  a  barrel  each  of  flour, 
Dread,  pork  and  beef  The  brig  had  encountered  strong  north- 
erly aud  north-easterly  winds  for  the  previous  eight  days.  The 
boat's  crew  were  hale,  athletic  Nova-Scotiana  and  it  was 
refreshing  to  see  such  well-knit,  sinewy  frames,  such  bold, 
hearty  features,  and  such  ruddiness  of  warm  and  healthy  blood 
As  the  Bermudas  had  not  suffered  us  to  pass,  I  hoped  that  the 
sailor's  couplet  would  apply  both  ways,  and  that  Cape  Hatteras 
would  let  us  off  easily      On  Saturday  morning,  the  17th,  a 


ESCAPE    FROM    CAPE    HATTERA8.  537 

breeze  sprang  up  from  the  south-east.  Gradually  increabiug,  ii 
hauled  to  the  northward  and  westward,  and  by  noon  we  were 
dashiug  on  our  course  at  the  rate  of  ten  knots.  The  sky  was 
too  overcast  to  obtain  an  observation,  but  according  to  the 
eckoning  we  were  in  Lat.  SS'^  16^  N.  and  Long.  75^  17^  W. 
At  2  p.  M.  we  ran  across  the  inner  edge  of  the  Gulf  Stream^ 
and  came  at  once  upon  soundings.  The  line  of  junction  between 
the  dark-blue  water  of  the  Gulf,  and  the  pale-green  of  the 
shoals  was  marked  with  wonderful  distinctness.  The  stern  of 
our  vessel  was  in  the  former,  while  the  latter  reached  to  hei 
waist.  Within  the  distance  of  a  ship's  length,  the  temperature 
of  the  sea  changed  from  72°  to  62^.  The  water  immediately 
became  of  a  paler  green,  and  we  felt  an  ugly  ground  swell. 
At  the  same  instant  Mr.  Cornell  discerned  land  off  the  port 
beam,  and  a  single  glance  sufficed  to  show  that  it  was  Cape 
Hatteras,  which,  according  to  our  reckoning,  should  have  been 
weathered  two  hours  before.  The  current  of  the  Gulf  Stream 
had  evidently  been  much  retarded  by  the  strong  north-eastern 
gales. 

It  blew  hard  during  the  night,  and  there  was  a  very  heavy 
sea  in  the  stream,  but  on  soundings  the  water  was  smoother. 
We  ran  the  whole  night  with  no  other  sail  than  close-reefed 
fore  and  main  topsails,  and  reefed  foresail.  In  the  morning  the 
sky  was  clear  and  cold,  and  the  air  for  the  first  time  biting  and 
wintry,  rendering  our  heaviest  clothing  necessary  to  support  the 
sudden  change  from  the  Tropics.  The  wind  gradually  veered 
to  W.  N.  W.,  but  by  noon  we  were  off  Cape  Henlopen.  We  ran 
close-hauled  all  day,  striving  to  get  to  windward  in  order  to 
make  Sandy  Hook  the  next  morning,  but  found  ourselves  at 
sunrise  about  40  miles  to  the  eastward  of  it.     The  transitioD 


588  DfDU,  CHINA,  AND  JAPAN. 

to  a  winter  climate  was  like  a  cold-plunge  bath.  Tl  e  ther. 
mometer  sank  to  25°,  and  water  froze  on  deck.  At  noon  a 
pilot-boat  hove  in  sight,  running  down  towards  us.  The 
Bhip  was  put  about,  in  order  to  meet  her,  but  this  movement 
gradually  brought  a  bark,  which  was  to  windward  of  us,  be- 
tween us  and  the  boat,  and  as  the  latter  hoisted  signal,  the 
boat  was  obliged  te  give  her  the  only  pilot  aboard. 

We  had  a  tedious  night,  of  alternate  calms  and  snow- 
squalls,  and  I  slept  very  little,  out  of  anxiety  lest  a  stiflF 
nor'wester  should  spring  up  and  blow  us  out  to  sea  again 
But  by  morning  we  had  a  pilot  aboard,  and  taking  advan- 
tage of  a  shift  of  the  wind,  made  a  tack  which  brought  us  in 
sight  of  Sandy  Hook  and  of  two  steam-tugs.  At  ten  o'clock 
the  Leviathan  had  grappled  us ;  the  useless  sails  were  furled, 
and  we  sped  surely  and  swiftly,  in  the  clear  winter  sunshine, 
up  the  outer  bay,  through  the  Narrows  and  into  the  noble 
harbor  of  New  York.  The  hills  of  Staten  Island  glittered 
with  snow;  the  trees  had  long  been  bare  and  the  grass 
dead  ;  and  for  the  first  time  in  nearly  three  years,  I  looked 
upon  a  winter  landscape.  It  was  the  20th  of  December,  and 
101  days  since  our  departure  from  Whampoa.  We  rapidly 
approached  the  familiar  and  beloved  city,  and  at  2  f.  m.  I 
landed  on  one  of  the  East  River  piers. 

I  had  left  New  York  on  the  28th  of  August,  1851,  and  had 
thus  been  absent  two  years  and  four  months.  During  this 
time  I  had  visited  most  of  the  countries  of  Europe,  ascended 
the  Nile  to  the  Negro  kingdoms  of  Central  Africa,  journeyed 
in  Palestine,  Asia  Minor,  and  India,  visited  China  twice,  and 
taken  part  in  the  American  expedition  to  Japan.  I  had 
travelled  altogether  about  fifty  thousand  miles,  and  in  all  my 


BETR08PECT, 


539 


wanderings,  in  all  my  intercouise  with  men  of  whatever  race  Of 
clime,  had  been  received  with  kindness  and  attended  by  uniform 
good  fortune.  Let  me  hope  that  the  reader,  who  has  had  the 
patience  to  accompany  me  through  the  narrative  of  this  long 
and  adventurous  journey,  will  arrive  at  its  close  with  the  same 
faith  in  those  innate  virtues  of  human  nature  which  no  degrada- 
tion can  obscure,  and  the  same  dependence  on  that  merciful 
Providence  whose  protection  extends  over  all  lands  and 


STUDIES    IN 
GERMAN    LITERATURE 


BAYARD  TAYLOR 

WITH     A.N'     IXTRODUCTION    BY 

GEORGE   H.    BOKER 


author's   REVISED   EDITION 


COPYRIGHT    BY 

G.  P.  PUTN.AM'S  SONS 
1879 


Ufcc  iknicftctbocfeer  press,  1ftcw  llort 

Electrotyped.  Printed,  and  Bound  by 
G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons 


INTRODUCTION. 


It  was  the  known  intention  of  Bayard  Taylor  to  pre- 
pare the  material  which  composes  the  following  work 
for  publication.  A  partial  arrangement  for  that  pur- 
pose had  been  made  between  him  and  the  present  pub- 
lishers. Had  he  lived  to  complete  his  plan,  doubtless 
the  form  of  the  matter  would  have  been  changed,  by 
adapting  it  to  the  reader  rather  than  the  hearer,  and 
the  scope  of  the  whole  work  would  have  been  enlarged 
and,  here  and  there,  elaborated,  so  as  to  complete  a 
design  which  was  necessarily  restricted  by  the  brief 
limits  of  time  prescribed  to  a  course  of  lectures. 

However  much  additional  interest  might  have  been- 
given  to  the  work,  had  Taylor  lived  to  carry  out  his 
purpose,  the  editors  felt  themselves  to  be  unauthorized 
to  attempt  changes  so  serious,  which  might  have  left 
upon  the  volume  the  impress  of  their  literary  style  and 
opinions  rather  than  those  of  the  actual  author.  Noth- 
ing beyond  the  corrections  of  verbal  errors  and  of  over- 


iy  introduction; 

sights  lias  therefore  been  attempted.  The  original 
manuscripts  of  the  author  have  been  closely  followed, 
even  to  the  preservation  of  the  lecture  form,  which, 
now  and  then,  may  seem  to  be  better  adapted  to  oral 
delivery,  and  to  the  sympathetic  appreciation  of  a 
crowded  lecture-room,  than  to  critical  examination 
under  the  dry  light  of  the  study. 

The  object  at  which  Taylor  aimed,  in  preparing  his 
course  of  lectures  for  delivery  before  the  students  of 
Cornell  University,  in  which  institution  he  held  an 
honorary  professorship,  was  that  the  lectures  should 
serve  as  an  introduction  to  the  literature  of  Germany. 
He  claimed  nothing  more  for  them.  Completely  as  he 
may  have  treated  of  some  subjects — as  in  the  lecture 
devoted  to  the  dissection  and  the  elucidation  of  the 
underlying  moral  purpose  of  "Faust,"  or  in  that  one  in 
which  he  makes  clear  and  gives  relative  position  to  the 
strange  and  abnormal  genius  of  Richter — in  the  main 
his  object  was  rather  to  introduce,  to  interest  and  to 
invite  the  student  to  a  further  pursuit  of  the  subject  for 
himself,  than  to  provide  him  with  accurate  and  thor- 
ough knowledge  of  a  field  so  wide  as  that  of  the  litera- 
ture of  the  most  cultivated  nation  of  Europe.  Not  one 
course  of  lectures  nor  many  courses,  not  one  volume 
nor  many  volumes,  could  have  accomplished  a  task  so 


INTRODUCTION.  V 

vast  as  a  full  critical  history  of  German  literature,  from 
its  remote  Gothic  sources  to  its  gigantic  product  in 
Goethe  and  his  famous  contemporaries.  The  reader 
will  therefore  take  these  lectures  for  what  they  profess 
to  be,  at  that  value  which  the  author  himself  set  upon 
them,  as  a  guide  to  intending  students  of  German 
literature,  and  not  as  a  profound  commentary,  ad- 
dressed to  those  who  are  already  well  versed  in  the 
subject. 

However  modest  may  have  been  Taylor's  aim  in 
making  his  lectures  elementary  and  popular,  rather 
than  profound  and  exclusive,  such  was  the  native  power 
of  his  intellect  and  the  depth  of  his  knowledge  of 
German  literature,  that,  whenever  he  touches  an  author 
critically,  he  rises  to  a  style  of  treatment  that  may  win 
the  admiration  of  the  most  scholarly,  and  furnish  food 
for  reflection  to  the  most  thoughtful.  The  lectures  on 
Goethe  and  that  greatest  of  modern  poems,  "Faust," 
and  on  that  literary  curiosity,  half  god  and  half  moun- 
tebank, Jean  Paul,  are  filled  with  the  light  of  discov- 
ery, and  abound  with  the  most  subtle  and  suggestive 
critical  analysis.  The  marks  of  the  same  powerful 
hand  may  be  discerned  throughout  the  other  lectures. 
Taylor  touched  nothing  that  he  did  not  beautify; 
nothing  came  beneath  his  eye  that  did  not  glow  with 


VI  INTRODUCTION, 

an  infectious  light;  fresh  truth  was  born  of  every  old 
truth  which  he  disclosed;  and  so  great  was  his  rever- 
ence for  intellectual  superiority,  that  the  heroes  of  his 
theme  rose  into  demi-gods  through  his  mere  com- 
panionship. 

The  difference  between  a  lecture  and  a  treatise  is  as 
great  as  that  between  an  oration  and  an  essay.  The 
former  addresses  itself  to  the  mind,  through  the  fleet- 
ing perceptions  of  the  ear,  and  gives  no  time  to  the 
unci  erstandingfortherevisingprocess  of  thought.  The 
style  of  the  lecture  should  be  simple,  direct  and  forci- 
ble. It  should  not  be  so  elaborate  and  complex,  in  its 
manner  o^^  announcing  truth,  as  to  call  upon  the  logical 
jDowers  of  the  hearer,  lest  the  thread  of  the  discourse 
be  lost  from  th-e  moment  the  effort  at  reasoning  begins. 
An  argument  is  out  of  place  in  a  lecture.  It  should 
give  us  the  fruits  of  the  intellect  rather  than  the  pro- 
cess by  which  they  matured.  It  should  treat  its  subject 
dogmatically.  It  should  pour  itself,  in  an  entire  and 
unbroken  stream,  into  the  ear  of  the  hearer,  with  a  cur- 
rent that  should  bear  him  along,  without  the  chance  or 
the  wish  for  a  pause  of  reflection,  satisfied  with  the 
present  idea  and  eager  for  the  next,  both  w^ill  and 
reason  enchained,  passive  and  compliant  under  the 
spell  of  the  speaker's  voice,  postponing  to  another 


INTRODUCTION,  yii 

occasion  all  intellectual  differences  and  all  doubts  of 
the  seeming  truths  which  are  uttered.  These  qualities 
will  be  found,  as  they  should  be  found,  in  the  lectures 
before  us.  The  style  is  so  pure  and  simple  that  no  one 
can  mistake  the  meaning  of  a  sentence  of  the  text,  while 
it  often  attains  to  passages  of  unconscious  eloquence, 
that  must  indeed  have  been  striking  when  heightened 
by  the  noble  presence,  the  skilful  elocution  and  the 
earnest  mien  of  the  author. 

Keeping  in  mind  the  wide  difference  of  treatment 
that  should  be  found  in  subjects  addressed  to  the  ear 
from  those  addressed  to  the  eye,  we  know  that  we  do 
Taylor  scant  justice  in  thus  literally  reproducing  his 
lectures  from  the  original  manuscripts,  rather  than  in 
the  more  elaborated  form  of  the  essay,  into  which  he 
would  have  cast  them  for  publication.  We  deprive  them 
of  his  vitalizing  presence,  without  instilling  into  them 
the  new  life  which  he  might  have  given  them  with  the 
after-touches  of  his  fruitful  pen,  and  we  perpetuate  in 
them  qualities  which,  although  both  proper  and  admi- 
rable in  oral  delivery,  may  awaken  cavil  or  antagonism 
when  reproduced  in  hard  print.  This  dilemma  was, 
however,  unavoidable.  The  editors  feel  themselves  to 
be  simply  the  intermediaries  between  the  author  and 
the  public.     However  much  these  lectures  might  have 


yiii  INTROBVCTION, 

been  improved  by  toning  tliem  down  to  the  strict  de- 
corum of  matter  intended  for  publication,  by  excluding 
from  them  the  forms  in  which  audiences  are  addressed 
or  appealed  to,  as  well  as  certain  familiarities  and  play- 
fulnesses of  phraseology — all  quite  fitting  in  a  lecture, 
and  enjoyable  by  the  hearers  ; — yet  we  felt  a  reluctance 
to  touch  the  text  of  Taylor  with  irreverent  hands,  or  to 
tear  to  pieces  even  that  which  we  meant  to  reconstruct, 
or  to  assume  a  responsibility  in  the  act  which  the  pub- 
lic might  not  be  disposed  to  tolerate.  Taylor  was  too 
high  a  character,  and  he  filled  too  large  a  place  in  our 
literature,  to  be  subjected,  in  the  helplessness  of  death, 
to  the  wrong  of  having  his  work  tampered  with,  even 
by  tender  hands,  devoted  to  fulfilling  a  purpose  of  his 
own.  The  master's  hand  is  as  stiff  as  the  pencil  which 
he  held,  his  blood  is  as  dry  as  the  colors  upon  his 
palette  :  let  the  pupils  stand  before  his  unfinished  work 
in  the  stillness  of  reverence ;  but  let  no  one  impose  a 
tone  or  a  tint  upon  the  canvas,  lest  the  world  of  to-day 
and  the  world  of  to-morrow  should  say  that  the  picture 
is  not  his. 

G.  K  B. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGB 

Introduction • ^^ 

I.  Earliest  German  Literature    1 

II.  The  Minnesingers ^^ 

III.  The  MEDi^vAii  Epics ^^ 

IV.  The  Nibelungenlied ^^^ 

V.  The  Literature  of  the  Reformation.  ...  135 

VI.  The  Literature  of  the  Seventeenth  Century 167 

VIL  Lessing ^^^ 

VIII.  Klopstock,  Wieland  and  Herder 234 

^^    „ .  266 

IX.  Schiller 

X.  Goethe 

S37 
XL  Goethe's   -'Faust" 

388 

XIL  Richter ♦ 


EARLIEST   GERMAN   LITERATURE. 

Every  one  knows  how  much  is  added  to  our  under- 
standing of  an  author's  works  when  we  become  ac- 
quainted with  his  biography.  We  thus  discover  what 
qualities  he  has  inherited,  what  others  have  been  deve- 
loped through  the  vicissitudes  of  his  life,  and  what  have 
been  attained  by  labor  and  aspiration.  This  is  equally 
true  of  the  literature  of  a  race.  It  has  its  pedigree,  its 
birth  and  childhood,  its  uncertain  youth,  and  its  vary- 
ing fortunes  through  the  ages,  before  it  reaches  a  ma- 
ture and  permanent  character.  Although  it  grows  in 
grace  and  variety  of  expression,  and  charms  us  most 
when  it  gives  large  and  lofty  utterance  to  the  thought 
and  feeling  of  our  own  times,  we  none  the  less  need  to 
turn  back  and  listen  to  the  prattle  of  its  infancy. 

I  therefore  propose  to  go  back  to  the  earliest  known 
foundation  from  which  German  Literature  grew,  and  to 
trace,  in  outlines  which  I  shall  try  to  make  both  simple 
and  clear,  the  chief  phenomena  of  its  early  life.  The  task 
is  not  easy ;  for  the  development  of  the  literature  of  a 
people  must  inevitably  take  hold  of  History  with  one 
hand,  and  of  Philology  with  the  other, — both  sciences 
essential  to  the    intimate  knowledge    of   all  important 

1  1 


2  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

literary  works,  yet  forbidden  to  me  within  the  limits 
wliicli  I  have  chosen.  But,  even  after  avoiding,  as  far 
as  may  be  possible,  historical  and  j^hilological  digres- 
sions, I  find  myself  embarrassed  by  the  abundance 
of  the  purely  literary  material ;  for  the  annals  of  Ger- 
many not  only  extend  much  further  into  the  past  thaa 
those  of  England,  but  the  research  of  her  scholars  has 
been  longer  and  more  laboriously  employed  in  illumi- 
nating the  dark  corners  of  her  history.  The  dullest 
chronicler,  the  most  mechanical  rhymester  who  ever 
turned  the  hand-organ  of  doggerel,  if  he  has  left  but 
a  paragraph  or  couplet  behind  him,  is  labelled  and 
placed  on  his  pedestal  in  the  pantheon  of  early  Teu- 
tonic letters ;  but,  fortunately,  no  disguise  of  language, 
no  magic  of  distance  or  the  romance  of  circumstances, 
can  wholly  bewilder  us.  When  we  begin  honestly  and 
earnestly  to  study  the  records  which  have  been  pre- 
served, we  soon  perceive  the  relative  value  of  names 
and  achievements,  and  it  is  not  difficult  to  separate  the 
few  original,  really  creative  minds  from  the  crowd  of 
imitators  and  secondary  intelligences. 

I  shall,  therefore,  confine  myself  to  those  names  and 
works  which  belong,  by  undoubted  right,  to  the  literary 
history  of  Germany, — the  landmarks,  sometimes  wide 
apart,  which  indicate  change  and  j^rogress, — and  shall 
simplify  my  task  by  the  omission  of  many  names  which 
would  furnish,  at  best,  only  a  dry  catalogue,  difficult  to 
remember,  and  of  little  value  when  remembered. 


EARLIEST  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  3 

The  aborigines  of  Germany  had  their  bards,  their 
battle-songs,  and  their  sacrificial  hymns,  when  they  first 
became  known  to  the  Komans.  From  the  little  which 
Tacitus  tells  us,  we  are  justified  in  inferring  a  more  ad- 
vanced stage  of  civilization  among  the  Germans  than  is 
now  implied  in  the  term  "barbarian."  The  Eomans, 
like  the  Greeks,  looked  down  upon  all  other  races  with 
a  certain  degree  of  contempt,  and  generally  misrepre- 
sented both  their  condition  and  their  capacities.  When 
the  emperor  Julian  the  Apostate  declares  that  the 
songs  of  the  people  on  the  Rhine  sounded  to  him  like 
the  cries  of  birds  of  prey,  his  opinion  is  worth  no  more 
to  us  than  that  of  any  man  now-a-days  who  thinks  the 
German  language  harsh  and  disagreeable  because  his 
ear  is  not  accustomed  to  the  sound  of  it.  About  the 
time  of  Julian's  short  reign,  a  work  was  written,  which 
has  escaped  to  refute  the  inference  which  might  be 
drawn  from  his  statement, — or,  at  least,  to  render  it 
very  improbable.  This  work  has  only  a  philological 
relation  to  German  literature,  but  the  interest  which 
it  possesses  in  this  respect  is  so  remarkable, — it  stands 
so  entirely  alone,  with  nothing  before  it,  and  nothing 
for  nearly  four  hundred  years  after  it, — that  one  must 
here  pause,  having  found  the  starting-point  of  our  in- 
vestigations. 

"When  the  Goths  commenced  their  migration  west- 
ward from  the  plains  north  of  the  Black  Sea,  in  the 
fourth    century   after   Christ,   they   gradually   became 


4  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

Christianized  on  tlie  way.  One  of  the  first  converts, 
by  name  Ulfilas,  born  in  the  year  318,  became  a  bishop 
of  gi'eat  sanctity,  who  was  highly  honored  by  the  em- 
perors of  the  East.  He  died  in  388,  immediately  after 
attending  the  oecumenical  council  of  Constantinople, 
where  he  defended  the  Arian  doctrine.  The  Goths, 
I  may  here  remark,  remained  Arians  for  three  hundred 
years  longer,  and  their  priests  read  the  services  in  their 
own  language  until  the  ninth  century.  Ulfilas  trans- 
lated the  Bible,  except  the  Books  of  Kings  and  Chro- 
nicles, into  Gothic;  and  tradition  says  that  he  was 
obliged  to  invent  an  alphabet,  as  the  Goths  had  no 
written  language  at  that  time.  Copies  of  his  transla- 
tion were  known  to  be  in  existence  about  the  year  900 ; 
then  they  disappeared,  and  the  work  was  lost  to  the 
world  for  more  than  six  hundred  years.  The  fact  that 
Ulfilas  was  an  Arian  undoubtedly  caused  his  translation 
to  be  regarded  as  heretical,  and  led  to  its  suj)pression. 
Toward  the  close  of  the  sixteenth  century,  Mercator, 
who  has  given  his  name  to  his  projection  of  the  globe, 
discovered  the  four  Gospels  of  Ulfilas  in  the  Abbey  of 
Werder,  in  Northern  Germany.  The  ancient  manu- 
scri23t  was  carried  to  Prague,  where,  at  the  close  of 
the  Thirty  Years'  War,  it  fell  into  the  hands  of  the 
Swedish  Count  Konigsmark,  who  presented  it  to  the 
University  of  Upsala.  It  is  called  the  "  Codex  Argen- 
teus,^'  or  silver  codex,  from  its  being  illuminated  in  sil- 
ver letters  on  purjDle  parchment.     In  the  year  1818,  the 


EARLIEST  GERMAIN  LITERATURE,  5 

Epistles  of  St.  Paul,  in  the  translation  of  Ulfilas,  were 
discovered  in  the  monastery  of  Bobbio,  in  Lombardy. 
Thus  we  have  recovered  nearly  the  whole  of  the  New 
Testament  in  Gothic,  written  within  twenty  or  thirty 
years  of  the  same  time  when  the  celebrated  Greek 
manuscripts  of  Mount  Sinai  and  the  Vatican  are  be- 
lieved to  have  been  written. 

The  value  of  this  work  requires  no  explanation.  The 
German  scholars  seem  to  be  entirely  agreed  that  the 
language  of  the  Goths  in  the  fourth  century,  thus  risen 
to  new  life  after  centuries  of  death,  is  very  superior 
to  the  German  language,  to  which  it  gave  birth,  in 
harmony  and  purity  of  tone,  in  grammatical  construc- 
tion, in  richness  and  precision  of  expression,  and  esj^e- 
cially  in  dignity  and  power.  *  They  find  it  familiar  and 
foreign  at  the  same  time,  hinting  its  old  relationship  of 
blood  and  feeling,  yet  breathing  of  much  that  has  been 
lost  in  the  mixing  of  the  races  and  washed  away  by  time. 

If  the  Gothic  language  be  the  legitimate  mother  of 
the  Old  German,  it  must  also  be,  through  the  Saxon, 
the  grandmother  of  English,  and  of  the  Swedish  and 
Danish.  A  single  j^assage  from  the  Gospels  of  Ulfilas 
will  make  this  evident,  even  to  those  who  are  not  far 
advanced  in  German  studies.  I  take  the  Lord's  Prayer, 
which,  phrase  by  phrase,  can  easily  be  compared  with 
either  the  English  or  German  words  : 

Atta  unsar,  thu  in  himinam,  veilinai  namo  tliein  ;  qvimai  tliiudi- 
nassus  theins  ;  vairthai  vilja  theins,  sve  in  himina,  jali  ana  airtliai  ; 


6  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

lilaif  unsarana  tliana  sinteinan  gif  uns  himma  daga  ;  jah  aflet  uns 
thatei  skulanssijaima  svasve  jali  veis  afletam  tliaim  skulam  unsaraim  ; 
jail  ni  briggais  uns  in  fraistubnjai,  ak  lausei  uns  af  thamma  ubilin  ; 
unte  theina  ist  thiudangardi,  jah  malits,  jah  vultlius  in  aivins.    Amen. 

Here  we  see  one  of  the  lost  stages  of  travel,  whereby 
many  of  the  words  of  our  daily  usage  were  carried  from 
their  far  home  in  India,  through  Tartary,  over  the  Cau- 
casus, around  the  Black  Sea,  and  so  westward  until  they 
reach  history.  It  is  a  curious  circumstance  that  the 
two  sounds  of  tl\,  in  English,  are  derived  from  the 
Gothic.  The  German  race  must  once  have  used  these 
sounds,  and  then  have  lost  them.  But  they  were  carried 
by  the  Visigoths  to  Spain,  and  still  belong  to  Icelandic, 
after  having  been  dropped  out  of  Swedish  and  Danish. 
We  might  almost  say  that  the  Gothic  of  Ulfilas  is  the 
point  whence  the  elements  which  have  become  separated 
in  English  and  German  began  to  diverge ;  but  there 
are  one  or  two  later  fragments  wherein  they  are  still 
blended. 

A  language  so  finely  developed  as  the  Gothic  must 
have  had  its  literature.  We  may  assume  this  as  cer- 
tain, even  without  evidence.  Nevertheless,  as  in  those 
buildings  of  the  Middle  Ages  which  are  constructed  out 
of  the  ruins  of  Eoman  and  Grecian  cities,  we  still  see 
the  ancient  chisel-marks  and  fragments  of  carvings  and 
inscriptions,  so  in  the  literature  of  the  German  lan- 
guage, after  it  took  its  distinct  form,  we  constantly  de- 
tect the  earlier  Gothic  material.  But  we  are  unable 
to  reconstruct  the  fragments.     We  only  know  that  the 


EARLIEST  GERMAJi  LITERATURE.  7 

sixth  and  seventh  centuries  must  have  been  rich  in 
songs  and  warlike  ballads,  which  kept  alive  the  deeds 
of  Theodoric  and  Odoaker,  kings  of  Italy,  and  Attila, 
the  Hun,  and  the  heroes  of  Burgundy  and  Flanders  who 
still  survive  in  the  ^' Nibdungenlied,''  As  Christianity 
extended  its  dominion,  the  influence  of  the  priests  was 
exerted  to  substitute  sacred  for  secular  literature.  The 
Greek  and  Roman  authors,  moreover,  constituted  an 
aristocracy,  beside  which  any  j^roductions  of  a  language 
counted  barbaric,  must  sink  to  the  lowest  plebeian 
level.  What  learning  there  was  in  those  days,  we  may 
easily  imagine,  turned  up  its  nose  at  the  strains  of  the 
native  minstrels. 

The  man  who  converted  the  pagan  Saxons  by  the 
sword,  who  laid  the  first  broad  foundations  of  German 
nationality  and  German  civilization,  was  the  first  to 
value  these  half-suppressed  elements  of  a  new  literature. 
He  is  called  Karl  the  Great  in  the  history  of  his  own 
race,  but  we  know  him  better  as  Charlemagne.  While 
in  the  interest  of  Christianity,  he  put  down  the  old 
Teutonic  religion  with  one  hand  and  pushed  back  the 
Saracens  with  the  other,  he  was  far  wiser  than  the 
Christian  spirit  of  his  day.  He  did  not  attempt  to 
transfer  the  already  crumbled  culture  of  pagan  Rome 
to  the  banks  of  the  Rhine,  but  used  it  as  a  guide  to  a 
new,  an  independent  German  culture.  His  one  mistake 
was  that  he  confided  the  execution  of  his  plans  exclu- 
sively to  the  clergy,  as  the  only  educated  class,  instead 


3  GEFcMAy  LITERATURE. 

of  creating  a  class  of  learned  men  outside  the  pale  of 
the  Church. 

Charlemagne  loved  the  German  language,  and  was 
acquainted  with  its  songs  and  ballads.  He  caused  a 
complete  collection  of  the  latter  to  be  made,  and  had 
them  sung  or  recited  at  his  court,  rightly  seeing  in  them 
the  basis  of  a  new  literature.  We  are  perhaps  indebted 
to  this  circumstance  for  the  reappearance  of  the  ancient 
themes  in  the  later  epics ;  but  the  original  collection  is 
irrevocably  lost.  Ludwig  the  Pious  undid,  as  far  as  it 
was  possible,  the  great  national  work  of  his  father.  In 
his  bigoted  old  age,  he  refused  to  hear  the  German 
songs  which  he  was  accustomed  to  recite  in  his  youth, 
— and  we  can  understand  how  immediately  the  clergy 
would  take  advantage  of  his  prejudices,  to  suppress  the 
growing  national  taste,  and  keep  literature  as  well  as 
religion  in  their  own  hands.  The  long  strife  between 
Germany  and  Eome,  which  has  broken  out  afresh  in 
our  time,  secretly  existed  then.  Although  some  of  the 
early  German  emperors  virtually  selected  the  popes, 
the  Church  was  patient,  and  probably  then  anticipated 
the  day  when,  at  Canossa,  two  hundred  and  fifty  years 
later,  Gregory  VII.  would  set  his  foot  on  a  German 
emperor's  neck. 

The  treaty  of  Yerclun,  in  843,  between  the  grandsons 
of  Charlemagne,  was  a  fortunate  event  for  Germany,  if 
it  could  have  been  perpetual,  for  it  dissolved  the  politi- 
cal connection  with  Italy.     But  death  and  life  were  tied 


EARLIEST  GEIIMAX  LITERATURE.  9 

togetlier  bj  Otto  I.,  a  hundred  years  later,  and  the  evil 
that  followed  has  not  been  worked  out  of  the  race 
to  this  day.  We  have  no  record  of  any  particular 
edict  concerning  the  suppression  of  the  collection  of 
ballads  made  by  order  of  Charlemagne  ;  but  the  multi- 
plication of  copies  must  have  ceased  during  the  reign 
of  his  son,  and  those  already  in  existence  could  hardly 
survive  theological  prejudice  for  three  hundred  years, 
until  the  Hohenstaufen  emperors  protected  a  new  era 
of  literature. 

From  the  few  fragments  of  the  language  which  have 
been  preserved,  I  shall  quote  a  part  of  the  oath  of  Charles 
the  Bald,  the  grandson  of  Charlemagne,  in  842,  very 
nearly  five  hundred  years  later  than  the  Gothic  of  Ulfi- 
las.  You  will  notice  that  both  the  German  and  Scan- 
dinavian elements  have  become  more  marked,  while 
the  English,  or  rather  Anglo-Saxon  character,  has  been 
diminished  by  separation : 

In  godes  minna  ind  in  tlies  christianes  folches  ind  unser  bedherS 
gehaltnissi,  fon  thesemo  dage  frammordes,  so  f ram  so  mir  got  gewiczi 
indi  malid  furgibit,  so  baldib  tesan  minan  bruodber  soso  man  mit 
rebtu  sinaE  bruodber  seal,  in  tbiu  tbaz  er  mig  so  sama  duo,  indi  mit 
Ludberen  in  nobbeiniu  tbing  ne  gegangu  tbe  minan  willon,  imo  se 
scaden  werdben. 

At  this   time  there  were  several   distinctly  marked 
dialects,  the  chief  of  which,  in  Germany,  were  the  High- 
German,  which  w^as  again  divided  into  Frankish  and 
Suabian,  and  the  Low-German,  or  Saxon,  fi'om  which 
1^ 


10  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

the  Plattdeutscli  of  to-day  is  descended.  Tlie  separation 
of  both  the  Anglo-Saxon  and  the  Scandinavian  branches 
had  commenced  before  the  time  of  Charlemagne,  and 
the  remains  of  their  early  literature  are  not  generally 
included  in  that  of  Germany.  The  fragment  of  the 
poem  of  Beowulf,  for  instance,  is  given  to  our  race  by 
the  German  scholars,  partly  for  philological  reasons, 
and  partly  because  it  belongs  to  a  different  Sagejihreis, 
or  legendary  cycle.  Had  the  heroic  ballads  of  the  sixth 
and  seventh  centuries  been  preserved,  we  might  perhaps 
have  been  able  to  mark  the  exact  point  from  which  each 
of  the  two  great  modern  languages  moved  in  different 
directions ;  but  we  can  only  say  that  the  earliest  literary 
remains,  which  are  sjDecially  and  distinctly  German,  date 
from  after  the  separation. 

The  earliest  of  these  is  known  as  the  "Hildebrands- 
lied'' — the  Song,  or  Lay  of  Hildebrand.  Only  a  small 
part  of  it  survives,  and  we  owe  its  existence  to  a  for- 
tunate chance.  It  appears  that  two  monks  of  the 
monastery  of  Fulda,  who  had  perhaps  originally  been 
soldiers,  filled  u-p  two  or  three  blank  pages  of  a  theo- 
logical manuscript  by  writing  upon  them  what  they 
remembered  of  a  popular  heroic  j)oem.  The  manu- 
script is  as  old  as  the  middle  of  the  ninth  century,  and 
the  poem  was  probably  composed  between  750  and  800, 
or  nearly  at  the  same  time  as  the  oldest  Scandinavian 
Edda.  The  fragment  is  still  preserved  in  the  library  at 
Cassel.     It  is  written  in  tlie  Low-German  dialect,  but 


EARLIEST  GERMAIN  LITERATURE.  \\ 

with  Higli-German  forms  of  construction,  and  is,  there- 
fore, much  more  difficult  to  read  than  the  Oath  of  Charles 
the  Bald.  The  story  has  a  remarkable  resemblance  to 
that  of  Sohrab  and  Eustum,  told  by  the  Persian  poet 
Firdusi  in  his  "Shah  Nameli,''  and  retold  in  admirable 
English  verse  by  Matthew  Arnold.  Hildebra*nd,  one  of 
the  warriors  of  Theodoric  the  Goth,  has  been  thirty 
years  absent  with  his  master,  among  the  Huns,  and  now 
returns  with  him  to  his  own  kingdom.  Hildebrand  had 
there  left  behind  him  a  wife  and  a  young  son.  This 
son,  by  name  Hadubrand,  now  a  strong  warrior,  comes 
forth  with  his  men  to  meet  the  strangers,  and  chal- 
lenges his  father  to  combat.  Hildebrand  recognizes 
his  son,  tells  him  his  story,  and  offers  him  his  golden 
bracelets.  But  Hadubrand  answers  that  his  father  is 
dead,  that  sea-faring  men  brought  the  news  of  his 
death,  that  he  believes  Hildebrand  to  be  a  crafty  Hun. 
and  he  will  only  accept  the  bracelets  with  the  lance, 
sword  against  sword.  Hildebrand  finds  it  impossible 
to  decline  the  defiance ;  lances  are  cast,  swords  are 
drawn,  and  the  shields  of  both  are  hacked  in  pieces. 
Here  the  fragment  breaks  off;  but  the  Song  of  Hilde- 
brand, although  not  written,  seems  to  have  lived  orally 
among  the  people,  and  seven  hundred  years  later  it 
was  sung  again  by  Kaspar  von  der  Roen.  The  end  is 
that  Hadulirand  is  overcome,  but  not  slain,  by  his  fa- 
ther, and  both  return  together  to  the  wife  and  mother. 
The  " HiklehraMlslied''  is  written  in  a  rude  alliterative 


12  GERMAIN  LITEBATURE. 

saga-measure, — that  original  form  of  verse  from  whicli 
our  rhymed  poetry  is  derived.  This,  in  its  turn,  is  un- 
doubtedly the  later  modification  of  some  much  older 
form.  The  fact  that  classic  poetry  was  read  according 
to  quantity,  and  the  saga-measure  according  to  accent, 
shows  the  comj^lete  independence  of  the  early  Gothic 
and  German  jDoetry  of  the  influence  of  the  Greek  and 
the  Roman.  It  is  impossible  to  guess  when  either  al- 
literation or  rhyme  originated ;  both  are  probably  as  old 
as  well-developed  human  language  ;  for  children  and 
savages  always  discover  them  and  play  Avith  them.  But 
the  fact  that  alliteration  appears  equally  in  the  oldest 
German,  Anglo-Saxon  and  Scandinavian,  indicates  that 
it  must  have  been  inherited  by  each  equally  from  the 
Gothic ;  and  thus  it  is  perhaps  as  old  a  form  of  poetry 
as  the  Homeric  hexameter.  The  ancient  rule  required 
that  the  accent  not  only  fell  on  the  important  words, 
but  two  words  in  the  first  line,  and  one  in  the  second, 
must  commence  with  the  same  letter.  The  effect  is  that 
of  a  half-rhyme  at  the  commencement  and  middle  of  a 
line,  instead  of  a  whole  rhyme  at  the  end.  In  fact,  the 
early  Norsemen  and  Germans  called  this  measure  the 
Sfahreim,  and  the  three  alliterative  words  Liedstahe 
(song-sticks),  or  bars,  upon  which  the  lines  rested,  very 
much  as  a  melody  is  supported  by  bars,  in  music. 
This  is  the  derivation  of  our  word  sfave,  which  we  still 
use  to  designate  the  verse  of  a  song.  To  make  the  ex- 
planation clearer,  I  will  quote  two  stanzas  in  the  saga- 


EARLIEST  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 


13 


measure,  from  Lowell's  poem  of  "  The  Yoyage  to  Yin- 
land  "  : 

**  Weak  was  the  Old  World, 
Wearily  war-fenced  ; 
Out  of  its  ashes. 
Strong  as  the  morning, 
Springeth  the  new. 
Beauty  of  promise, 
Promise  of  Beauty, 
Safe  in  the  silence 
Sleep  thou,  till  cometh 
Light  to  thy  lids  I " 

As  we  find  the  first  written  basis  of  the  language  in 
the  Gothic  Gospels  of  Ulfilas,  so  we  find  the  first  sur- 
viving relic  of  a  native,  autochthonous  German  litera- 
ture in  the  Song  of  Hildebrand.  Let  us  now  examine 
what  is  left  of  it.  I  will  first  select  the  passage  where 
Hadubrand,  the  son,  speaks  to  Hildebrand,  the  father : 


Hadubraht  gimahalta 
Hiltibrantes  sunu  : 
"  Dat  sagetun  mi 
lisere  liuti  : 
alte  anti  f  rote, 
dea  er  hina  warun, 
dat  Hiltibrant  hsetti  min  fater 

ih  h'-ittu  Hadubrant. 
Forn  her  oftar  giweit, 
floh  her  Otachres  nid, 
hina  miti  Theotrihhe 
enti  sinero  degano  filu. 
Her  furlaet  in  lante 
luttila  sitten 
prut  in  bure, 
barn  unwahsan, 
arbeolaosa." 


So  spake  Hadubrand, 

Son  of  Hildebrand  : 

Said  unto  me 

Some  of  our  people. 

Shrewd  and  old. 

Gone  hence  already. 

That  Hildebrand  was  my  fathel 

called, — 
I  am  called  Hadubrand. 
Erewhile  he  eastward  went. 
Escaping  from  Odoaker, 
Thither  with  Theodoric 
And  his  many  men  of  battle. 
Here  he  left  in  the  land,   . 
Lorn  and  lonely, 
Bride  in  bower, 
Bairn  ungrown. 
Having  no  heritage." 


14 


GERMAN  LITERATURE. 


I  think  we  cannot  lielp  feeling  both  the  simplicity, 
and  the  natural  dignity,  of  these  lines.  The  language  is 
the  jDlainest  possible ;  there  is  not  here,  nor  anywhere 
in  the  poem,  an  ajDproach  to  metaphor  ;  the  situation  is 
so  thoroughly  epic,  that  it  requires  no  poetical  adorn- 
ment. After  Hildebrand  throws  down  his  golden  brace- 
lets, and  Hadubrand  charges  him  with  being  a  tricky 
old  Hun,  the  latter  says  : 


Dat  sagetun  mi 

seolidante 

westar  ubar  wentilsaeo, 

dat  man  wic  furnam  : 

Tot  ist  Hiltibrant, 

Heribrantes  suno  ! " 


This  said  unto  me 
Sea-faring  men, 
From  over  Midland-sea, 
That  battle  took  him  : 
Dead  is  Hildebrand, 
Son  of  Heribrand ! " 


Notice,  now,  how  the  poem  continues 


Hiltibraht  gimahalta, 
Heribrantes  suno  : 
'Wei a  gisihu  ih 
in  dinem  hrustim 
dat  du  habes  heme 
herron  goten, 

dat  du  noh  bi  desemo  riche 
reccheo  ni  wurti." 


Spake  then  Hildebrand, 
Son  of  Heribrand : 
Surely  see  I 
From  thine  armor. 
Hast  at  home  here 
King  that  is  kindly, 
Wast  not  yet  in  his  ranks 
Ranged  as  a  war-man." 


Then  he  continues,  in  a  strain  all  the  more  tragic 
from  its  bareness  : 


Welaga  nu,  waltant  got  1 

wewurt  skihit ! 
ih  wallota  sumar6 
enti  wintro  sehstic, 
dar  man  mih  eo  scerita 


Well  -  a  -  day   now,   governing 

God! 
Woe-worth  shall  happen  1 
Summers  full  sixty, 
And  winters,  I  wander. 
Ever  called  with  the  crowd 


EARLIEST  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  15 

in  folc  sceotanter6,  Of  shooters  of  spears  ; 

so  man  mir  at  bure  senigeru  Nor  in  mine  own  stronghold 

banun  ni  gifasta.  Delayed,  as  the  dead. 

Nu  seal  niih  suasat  Now  shall  the  child  of  me 

chind  suertu  hauwan.  Smite  me  with  sword, 

breton  mit  sinu  billjii  Bite  me  with  broad  steel, 

eddo  ih  imo  ti  banin  werdan."  Or  I  be  his  slayer." 

There  is  nothing  more  nobly  simple  and  natural  in 
Homer  than  this  last  passage.  Without  the  least  effort, 
by  the  commonest  means,  the  poem  here  rises  to  the 
highest  epic  and  tragic  grandeur.  The  last  lines  of 
the  fragment,  where  the  fight  commences,  are  not  less 
fine: 

Do  la^ttun  se  oerist 
askim  scritan, 
scarpen  scurim, 
dat  in  dem  sciltim  stont. 

(Then  let  they  first  the  ash  stride  forth,  with  a  sharp  storming,  so 
that  it  stood  in  the  shields.) 

The  passages  I  have  given  amount  to  about  one- 
third  of  what  remains  of  the  original  poem. 

Some  scholars  consider  that  the  song  of  Hildebrand 
formed  part  of  the  collection  made  by  order  of  Charle- 
magne. This  is  merely  conjecture  ;  but  it  is  very  possi- 
ble that  the  lines  I  have  quoted  may  have  been  recited 
at  the  court  of  that  emperor. 

The  next  work  which  has  been  preserved  dates  from 
near  the  middle  of  the  ninth  century.  It  is  sometimes 
called  the  ''  Old-Saxon  Gospel  Harmony;'  and  sometimes 
the  ''Hdiandr  an  ancient  form  of  the  modern  German 


16  GERMAN  LITERATURE, 

word  HeUand,  the  Sayiour.  There  seem  to  be  some 
grounds  for  the  tradition  that  it  was  written  by  a  Saxon 
peasant,  who  was  looked  upon  by  the  people  as  specially 
inspired  for  the  purpose,  during  the  reign  of  Ludwig 
the  Pious,  the  son  of  Charlemagne.  The  object  of  the 
writer  was  undoubtedly  to  make  the  life  and  works  of 
Christ,  as  related  in  the  Gospels,  known  to  the  common 
people  through  the  medium  of  their  own  language,  and 
the  alliterative  poetic  measure  in  which  they  had  chanted 
to  their  own  not  yet  forgotten  deities.  The  priests, 
therefore,  must  have  taken  pains  to  substitute  this 
Christian  poem  for  the  songs  and  ballads  of  the  heroes, 
as  a  means  of  securing  the  faith  of  those  tribes  who, 
like  the  Saxons,  had  been  converted  by  force.  The 
poem  is  a  remodelling  of  the  Gospel  narrative,  rather 
than  a  translation ;  in  style,  manner  and  language  it 
has  an  original  character,  and  the  figures  of  Christ  and 
His  disciples  receive  a  new  and  warm  and  impressive 
life  in  its  lines.  Vilmar  even  goes  so  far  as  to  say: 
"It  is  by  far  the  most  excellent,  complete  and  lofty 
work  which  the  Christian  poetry  of  all  races  and  all 
times  has  produced.  Apart  from  its  religious  sub- 
stance, it  is  one  of  the  noblest  poems  ever  created  by 
the  imaginative  human  mind,  and  in  some  passages  and 
descriptions  may  be  placed  beside  the  strains  of  Homer. 
It  is  the  only  really  Christian  epic."  Without  accept- 
ing such  an  extravagant  estimate,  I  am  at  least  quite 
ready  to  admit  that  it  contains  a  purer  and  more  at- 


EARLIEST  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  VJ 

tractive  poetic  element  than  tlie  "  Messiah  "  of  Klop- 
stock,  or  the  religious  poetry  of  the  English  language. 

It  is  often  noticed,  by  readers  as  well  as  critics,  that 
what  is  called  religious  poetry  rarely  possesses  any 
striking  literary  value ;  and  the  same  may  be  said  of 
political  poetry.  There  is  here,  I  think,  simply  a  con- 
fusion of  terms.  If  we  substitute  the  adjectives  doc^ 
trinal  and  ijartisan  for  "religious"  and  "political,"  the 
cause  of  the  failure  is  evident.  Literature  lives  and 
flourishes  in  the  freest  atmosphere  of  spiritual  and 
political  aspiration,  but  it  begins  to  perish  when  the 
attempt  is  made  to  narrowly  define  and  limit  and  cir- 
cumscribe those  passions  of  the  human  soul.  The  old 
Saxon  ^' Heliand''  only  tells  the  story  of  Christ's  life. 
Its  writer  knew  the  people  he  was  addressing,  and  he 
chose  the  simplest  way  to  reach  their  imagination  and 
emotions.  The  Hebrew  air  which  seems  to  blow  from 
the  Old  Testament  over  the  New,  is  not  felt  in  his 
poem :  the  characters  and  situations,  no  less  than  the 
speech,  are  Saxon.  We  might  almost  fancy  that  Christ 
is  the  beautiful  god  of  the  Scandinavians,  the  white 
Balder,  in  a  more  perfect  form.  I  shall  quote  a  passage 
where  the  disciples  questioned  him  concerning  the  last 
day,  the  end  of  the  world :  you  will  notice  that  it  is  a 
paraphrase  of  the  24th  chapter  of  Matthew : 

Tho  gengun  imo  is  iungaron  to,         Then  went  His  disciples  Him 

unto, 
fragodon  ina  so  stillo  *  And  questioned  Him  secretly  ? 


18 


GERMAN  LITERATURE, 


Hus   lango    seal    standen    noli," 

quandun  sie, 
■  thius  werold  an  wunuiun, 
er  than  that  giwand  kume, 
that  the  lasto  dag 
liohtes  skioe 
thurh  wolkanskion  ? 
eftho  hvan  is  eft  thin  wan  ku- 

man 
an  thenne  middilgard, 
mankunni 
te  adomienne 
dodun  ondi  quikun? 
Fro  min,  the  godo, 
us  is  thes  firwit  miJdl 
waldandeo  Krist, 
hvan  that  giwerden  sculi  ! " 
Tho  im  andwordi 
alowaldo  Krist 
godlic  fargaf, 
them  gumun  selbo. 
'That  habad  so  bidernid,"   quad 

he, 
'himilrikies  fader, 
waldand  thesaro  weroldes, 
so  that  witen  ni  mag 
enig  maunisc  barn, 
hvan  thiu  marie  tid 
giwirdid  an  thesaru  weroldi. 
Ne  il  ok  te  waran  ni  kunnun 
godes  engilos, 
thie  for  imo  geginwarde 
simlun  sindun. 
Sie  it  ok  giseggian  ni  mugun 
te  waran  mid  iro  wordun, 

hvan  that  giwerden  sculi, 
that  he  willie  an  thesan  middil- 
gard, 
mahtig  drohtin, 


'How  long    shall    stand    yet," 

quoth  they, 
■  This  world  so  winsome, 
Ere  then  the  end  come. 
And  the  last  day's  light 
Shine  through  the  closing 
Clouds  of  the  firmament  ? 
When  meanest  thou  to  come 

To  this  middle  mansion. 

Unto  mankind. 

To  judge  and  doom 

The  quick  and  dead? 

Lord  mine,  the  loving. 

Deep  our  desire  is. 

All-governing  Christ, 

To  know  when  it  cometh  !  '* 

Answered  them  thereupon 

All-governing  Christ, 

Godlike  gave  to  them. 

Even  themselves,  the  men. 

So  hath  He  hidden  it,"  quoth 

he, 
'  Heaven's  high  Father, 

Ruling  the  earth-realm. 

So  that  know  it  may  none 

Of  the  children  of  men 

When  that  wonderful  day 

Dawns  on  the  world. 

Nor  also  verily  know  it 

God's  very  angels, 

W^ho  present  before  Him 

Perpetually  wait. 

Neither  dare  they  declare  it. 

With   truth   of  willing   word- 
speech, 

When  it  shall  come, 

That  He,  in  this  middle  man- 
sion, 

Living  Lord, 


EARLIEST  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 


19 


firino  fandon. 

Fader  wet  it  eno, 

helag  fan  himile  ; 

elcur  is  il  biholen  allun, 

quikiin  endi  dodun, 

hvan  il  kumi  werdad. 

Ik  mag  in  thoh  gitellien, 

hvilic  er  tecan  bivoran 

giwerdad  wunderlic, 

er  lie  an  tliese  werold  kume 

an  themu  mareon  daga. 

That  wirdid  er  an  the  no  manon 

skin, 
jac  an  theru  sunnun  so  same  : 
gisverkad  siu  bethiu, 

mit  finistre  werdad  bifangan  ; 

fallad  sterron, 

hvit  hebentungal, 

endi  lirisid  erde, 

bivod  thins  brede  werold. 

Wirdid  sulikaro  bokno  filu  : 

grimmid  the  groto  seo, 

wirkid  thie  gebenes  strom 

egison  mit  is  udhiun 

erdbuandiiin. 

than  thorrot  thiu  thiod 

thurh  that  gethving  mikil, 

folc  thurh  thea  forhta  : 

than  nis  f  ridu  hvergin  ; 

EC  wirdid  wig  so  maneg 

char  these  werold  alia 

hetili  afhaben  ; 

endi  heri  ledid 

kunni  obar  odar. " 


Sin  shall  sentence. 
Knoweth  it  the  Father  only. 
Holy  One  from  heaven  ; 
Else  is  it  darkened  from  all. 
Both  the  quick  and  the  dead. 

Yet  will  I  truly  tell  you. 
Signs  to  be  seen  beforehand, 
Wondrous  to  witness, 
Or  ever  He  weighs  the  world 
On  the  famous  day  of  doom. 
The  moon  shall  make  it  mani- 
fest. 
Yea,  and  the  sun  the  same  : 
Clearness    of    them    shall    be 

clouded 
Deeply,  and  drenched  in  dark- 
ness : 
Fall  shall  the  star-fires. 
White  tongues  of  heaven. 
Earth  wofully  tremble. 
The  wide  world  shiver. 
Many  shall  be  such  marvels  : 
Grimly  shall  the  great  sea 
Roar  with  his  waves  in  wrath. 
And  the  deep  become  a  dread 
To  the  Earth-dwellers. 
Pine  then  shall  the  people, 
Torn  by  the  tribulation, 
Multitudes  fall  in  their  fear ; 
For  peace  shall  perish. 
And  wars  so  murderous. 
Many  and  mighty. 
Waste  the  world." 


I  would  especially  call  attention,  in  this  passage,  to 
the  greater  brevity  and  strength  of  expression,  the  sim- 


20  GERM  AX  LITERATURE. 

pier  construction  of  the  language,  as  compared  with 
modern  German.  Gervinus,  however,  very  correctly  re- 
marks that  the  external  form  of  a  language  is  no  sure 
indication  of  the  genius  of  the  people  Avho  speak  it :  we 
must  measure  the  importance  of  the  thoughts  expressed. 
The  greatest  richness,  power  and  flexibility  avail  but 
little,  if  the  race  is  intellectually  impoverished,  or  if  its 
intellectual  growth  is  forcibly  suppressed.  While  we 
admire  this  wonderful  work  of  a  Saxon  peasant — the 
literary  brother  of  Caedmon,  our  earliest  Anglo-Saxon 
singer,  after  Beo^^nilf — we  must  remember  that  his  sub- 
ject, alone,  has  saved  his  poem.  Had  he  written  of  Theo- 
doric  or  Siegfried,  he  would  have  been  frowned  upon,  if 
not  silenced,  by  the  emperor  and  the  clergy.  Indeed,  the 
success  of  the  ^'  Heliand  "  led  to  the  production  of  a  rival 
poem,  by  Otfried,  a  Benedictine  monk,  who  possessed 
the  learning  of  the  monasteries  of  Fulda  and  St.  Gall, 
and  made  the  classic  authors  his  models,  although  he 
wrote  in  German.  In  the  dearth  of  literary  remains 
from  that  age,  his  work  is  interesting  and  valuable.  It 
shows  the  accomplished  scholar,  as  the  "  Heliand  "  shows 
the  unlettered,  but  genuine  poet.  Otfried's  poem  is 
written  in  High-German,  and  in  regular,  rhymed  stan- 
zas, so  that  it  marks  the  transition  from  the  ancient  to 
the  modern  form  of  poetry.  Ehyme  already  existed,  and 
it  is  also  nearly  certain  that  the  songs  of  the  people 
were  occasionally  divided  into  verses  of  equal  length, 
so  that  Otfried  is  entitled  to  no  merit  for  the  mere  form 


EARLIEST  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 


21 


of  his  work.  He  manifests  both  skill  and  scholarship, 
but  he  is  cold,  mechanical  and  studied.  I  find  that 
his  lines,  although  nearer  German,  are  more  difficult  to 
read  than  those  of  the  "  HeliamL'"  I  will  quote  the  cor- 
responding passage,  where  the  disciples  question  Christ 
concerning  the  end  of  the  world,  to  show  the  difference 
between  the  two.  Otfried's  poem  was  finished  in  the 
year  868,  about  thirty  years  after  the  other. 


Er  saz  sid  tliemo  gange 
in  themo  oliberge ; 
f  ragetun  sie  nan  siintar — 
sie  was  es  filu  wtintar  : 

"  Sage  uns,  meistar,  tlianne 
wio  tliiu  zit  gigange, 

zeichan  wio  tliii  queman  scalt, 

ioli  wio  tliiu  worolt  ouli  zigat?" 

"Goumet,"    quad    er,    "thero 

dato, 
ioh  weset  glawe,  tlirato, 
thaz  in  ni  daron  in  fara 
thie  managon  luginara. 
"  Yrwehsit  iamarlitliaz  tiling 
ubar  thesan  worolt  ring, 
in  liungere  int  in  suhti 
in  wenegeru  fluliti ! " 


After  this  walk,  He  set 
Himself  on  Olivet ; 
Him  closely  did  they  question, 
Great  marvel    then   possessed 

them. 
"  Declare  us,  Master,  now, 
When    comes    the    time,    and 

how. 
What    signs    shalt    thou,    ere 

coming,  send. 
And  how  the  world  shall  find 

its  end?" 
"These  things  consider,"  said 

He; 
Be  prudent,  wise,  and  ready 
And  'gainst  the  danger  'ware  ye 
Of  liars  that  would  ensnare  ye. 
"  Great  misery  shall  be  liurled 
Over  all  the  ring  of  the  world. 
In  plague  and  hunger  breaking. 
In  flying  and  forsaking  ! " 


Here  I  omit  several  stanzas,  w^here  the  versions  do 
not  agree,  and  give  three  more  which  nearly  correspond 
in  language  with  the  "  Heliand  " : 


"  Duit  mano  ioh  thiu  sunna 
mit  finstere  unwunna. 


"  The  sun  and  moon  shall  frown 
In  woe  of  darkness  down. 


22 


GERMAN  LITERATURE. 


ioh  fallent  oali  thie  sterron 

in  erda  filu  ferron. 

"  Sill,  weinotthanne  tliuruli  thia 

quist 
al  thaz  hiar  in  erdii  ist, 
tliuruh  tliio  selbum  grunni 
al  tliiz  worolt  kunni, 
"  So  selient  se  mit  githuinge 
queman  tliara  zi  thmge 
fon  wolkonon  lieiasun 

then  selbon  mennisgen  sun  ! " 


And  fall  shall  every  star 
On  earth,  both  near  and  far. 
"  Behold  this  trouble  deep 

Shall  make  all  earth  to  weep  ; 
For  these  same  troubles  sent, 
All  sons  of  men  lament. 
"  They  with  amaze  unending, 
To  judgment  then  descending 
Shall  see,  through   the  cloudy 

span, 
The  self-same  Son  of  Man  !  " 


This  will  suffice  to  show  the  difference  in  dialect  and 
character  between  the  two  poems.  It  is  a  curious  cir- 
cumstance that  both  the  Saxon  peasant  and  the  monk 
Otfried,  in  their  rival  Gospel  Harmonies,  studiously 
avoid  every  reference  to  Jewish  history  or  customs : 
they  even  omit  the  name  of  Jerusalem.  We  have  no 
means  of  ascertaining  the  relative  popularity  of  the  two 
poems  ;  but  this  must  have  partly  depended  on  the  dia- 
lect in  which  they  were  written.  Toward  the  end  of  the 
ninth  century,  short  hymns  and  religious  poems  of  a 
narrative  character  became  frequent.  Only  four  or 
five,  Avliich  are  rather  doggrel  than  poetry,  have  come 
down  to  us. 

One  more  relic  of  the  earliest  German  literature,  and 
only  one,  remains  to  be  mentioned.  This  is  the  ^'Lud- 
migsUed,''  which  celebrates  the  victory  of  Ludwig  III. 
over  the  Normans,  at  Saulcourt,  in  the  year  881.  It 
was  written  by  Hucbald,  a  learned  monk,  soon  after  the 
battle,  and  the  original  manuscript,  in  Hucbald's  own 


EARLIEST  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  23 

hand,  is  still  in  existence.  It  was  discovered  at  Va- 
lenciennes in  France.  There  are  two  peculiarities 
about  this  song  :  it  is  the  first  secular  work  in  German, 
by  a  clerical  author ;  and,  secondly,  it  is  not  a  Lied,  or 
song  wherein  the  chief  interest  belongs  to  the  words, 
the  musical  accompaniment  being  of  secondary  import- 
ance, but  a  Leich,  or  song  written  especially  for  music, 
wherein  the  melody  partly  determines  beforehand  what 
words  shall  be  used.  Thus  it  resembles  the  text  of  an 
opera  melody,  as  contrasted  with  the  Lieder,  or  with  the 
songs  of  Burns.  In  such  airs  as  casta  diva,  or  suoni  la 
tro?nha,  the  words  are  simply  a  carpet  thrown  down, 
over  which  the  music  walks  triumphant ;  but  when  the 
true  Volkslied,  or  song  of  the  people,  appears,  the  melody 
comes  to  it,  and  lives  with  it  as  a  loving  and  faithful 
handmaid. 

The  language  of  the  "Hildehrandslied''  and  the  "Z«c?- 
ivigslied  "  shows  the  contrast  between  the  natural  poetic 
speech,  and  that  which  springs  only  from  culture.  The 
former  is  as  simple  as  the  speech  of  a  child  ;  the  char- 
acters are  placed  before  us  without  explanation,  we 
hear  them  speak  and  see  them  act,  and  the  story  is 
told ;  but  the  monk  Hucbald's  song  of  victory  begins 
with  a  description  of  Ludwig  as  a  servant  of  God,  and 
especially  recommended  to  His  favor.  Trial  and  proba- 
tion are  sent  to  him  ;  malice,  falsehood,  and  treachery 
surround  him.  Then,  when  the  trouble  of  his  people 
from  the  invasion  of  the  Normans  becomes  great,  God 


24 


GERMAN  LITERATURE. 


speaks  to  liim  in  person,  commissioning  him  to  promise 
helj)  and  comfort,  and  assuring  him  of  victory  in  ad- 
vance. The  honest  okl  monk  does  not  see  that  Ludwig 
ceases  to  be  heroic  in  proportion  as  he  becomes  sancti- 
fied :  any  general  will  lead  his  troops  into  battle  when 
he  foreknows  his  own  success. 

I  will  quote  only  the  description  of  the  battle,  of 
which  we  have  but  twenty  lines,  part  of  the  manuscript 
being  lost.  This  is  the  most  spirited  and  picturesque 
portion  of  the  poem  : 


Tho  nam  her  skild  indi  sper, 

ellianliclio  reit  lier, 
wold  er  war  erraliclion 
sina  widarsaliclion. 

Tho  ni  was  iz  buro  lang, 
fand  her  thia  Xorthman  ; 
Gode  lob  sageda ; 
her  sihit,  thes  her  gereda. 

Ther  kuniug  reit  kuono, 
sang  lioth  f  rono, 
joh  alle  saman  sungun  : 
Kyrrie  leison  ! " 

Sang  was  gisungan, 
wig  was  bigunnan  ; 
bluot  skein  in  wangon, 
fipilodiin  ther  Vrankon. 

Thar  vaht  thegeno  gelih, 
nichein  so  so  Hludgwig  ; 
Bnel  indi  kuoni, 

thaz  was  imo  gekunni. 

Suman  thuruh  skluog  her, 
suman  thuruh  stah  her  : 


Then     took    he    spear    and 
shield, 
Mightily  rode  to  xhe  field  ; 
Ready  he  was,  and  merry. 
To  test  his  adversary. 

Little  time  went  round 
Ere  he  the  Xormans  found  : 
"  God  be  praised  !  "  he  panted  : 
He  saw  what  he  wanted. 

The  king  rode  knightly  : 
He  sang  a  song  lightly. 
And  all  sang  together  : 
"  Kyrie  eleison!  " 

Ceased  the  song's  delighting. 
Begun  was  the  fighting  : 
Blood  in  cheeks  shone  clearly. 
Fought  the  Franks  so  cheerly. 

Ludwig,  hero-like. 
Struck  as  none  could  strike, 
With    speed,    and    force,  and 

spirit  : 
Such  did  he  inherit. 

One  he  battered  dead. 
Another  stabbed  and  sped, 


EARLIEST  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  25 

Here  tlie  description  breaks  off  suddenly,  and  the  re- 
mainder of  the  manuscript  is  a  thanksgiving  of  Ludwig 
and  his  Franks  after  the  battle. 

This  earliest  period  of  German  literature,  commencing 
with  the  first  traces  of  the  written  language,  covers  a 
space  of  about  eight  hundred  years.  The  scholars  are 
agreed  in  fixing,  as  the  period  of  its  termination,  the 
accession  of  the  Hohenstaufens  to  the  German  imperial 
throne,  in  1138.  But  from  the  production  of  the  ''Liid- 
wigsliecV'  to  this  latter  date,  two  centuries  and  a  half 
intervene.  It  is  surprising  that  all  the  records  which 
remain  to  us  from  that  long  period  possess  scarcely  any 
literary  importance.  An  apparent  desert  separates  the 
old  from  the  mediaeval  realm.  Yet  the  whole  country, 
during  this  time  —  especially  under  the  reign  of  the 
Ottos  —  was  growing  in  industry,  in  civil  order,  in 
wealth,  security  and  intelligence.  We  shall  find,  in- 
deed, if  we  carefully  study  history,  that  there  was  a 
literature,  but  of  an  imitative,  artificial  character,  writ- 
ten in  Latin,  and  not  in  German.  Otto  I.,  who  began  to 
reign  in  936,  added  Italy  again  to  the  Empire,  after  a 
separation  of  nearly  a  hundred  years,  and  the  power  of 
the  Church  began  to  increase.  He  studied  the  classics, 
his  son,  Otto  II.,  married  a  Grecian  princess,  with 
whom  Byzantine  a]  t  and  architecture  came  to  Germany, 
and  Otto  III.  spoke  Greek  almost  as  well  as  German. 
Besides,  Arianism  had  been  suppressed,  the  last  ves- 
tiges of  the  old  Teutonic  faith  had  disappeared,  and  the 
2 


26  GERM  AS  LITERATURE. 

priests,  released  from  the  labor  of  conversion,  could 
devote  mucli  of  tlieir  time  to  other  than  theological 
studies.  Europe  was  covered  with  stately  and  wealthy 
monasteries,  and  some  of  them — as  St.  Gaul,  Fulda, 
Corvey,  and  Hildesheim — became  famous  seats  of 
learning.  In  addition  to  the  legends  of  saints,  and  the 
chronicles  of  the  Church,  which  were  now  written  in 
great  numbers,  the  picturesque  episodes  of  early  Ger- 
man history  were  taken  up,  and  made  the  subject  of 
Latin  epics,  some  of  which  still  exist,  either  complete 
or  in  fragments.  I  do  not  consider,  however,  that  these 
works  properly  belong  to  German  literature ;  their  in- 
terest is  simply  historical. 

It  is  reasonable  to  suppose,  nevertheless,  that  the  taste 
of  the  people  for  those  earlier  stores  of  poetry  from 
which  the  ^^  Niebelungenlied''  and  ^'Reynard  the  Fox  "  were 
afterwards  created,  was  not  suppressed,  although  their 
continued  production  was  discouraged  in  every  way. 
But,  during  these  two  hundred  and  fifty  years,  the  peo- 
ple were  passing  through  that  change  of  habits  and 
relations  to  one  another  which  followed  their  change 
of  faith.  It  was  a  period  of  ferment  and  transition,  but 
of  a  material  rather  than  an  intellectual  character,  until 
the  close  of  the  eleventh  century  when  the  Crusades 
commenced.  The  native  German  element  of  poetry  lay 
dormant,  but  it  was  not  dead.  Yilmar  very  justly  says  : 
"  Even  as  the  strength  and  activity  of  the  soul  is  not 
extinguished  in  sleep,  so  we  dare  not  affirm  this  of  the 


EARLIEST  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  27 

German  people  during  tlie  almost  dumb  and  barren 
tenth,  eleventh,  and  first  half  of  the  twelfth,  centuries. 
As  in  dreams  were  preserved,  as  in  the  faltering,  half- 
conscious  speech  of  dreams  were  sung,  the  old  heroic 
ballads  of  Siegfried  and  Theodoric,  of  Chrimhild  and 
Hagen,  of  Walther  and  Attila." 

I  have  given  no  specimens  of  the  prose  literature  of 
Germany  during  the  eight  centuries  which  I  have  briefly 
reviewed,  for  the  simple  reason  that  there  is  none. 
Nearly  all  chronicles  or  documents  were  written  in 
Latin,  and  the  German  author,  of  course,  preferred  to 
use  a  language  which  his  fellow-authors  throughout 
Europe  could  read  without  translation.  Besides,  in 
the  civilization  of  the  races,  poetry  is  the  first  form  of 
literature,  as  sculpture  is  the  first  form  of  art.  Men 
demand  in  the  beginning,  not  ideas  nor  illusive  copies  of 
realities,  but  a  shape,  palpable  to  the  eye  or  the  ear,  and 
thus  the  most  perfect  art  is  the  earliest  born.  Indeed, 
we  might  say,  that  the  primitive  poetry  of  Germany, 
with  its  rude,  short,  strong  lines,  falling  like  the  blows 
of  a  hammer,  and  dinting  the  memory  with  their  allite- 
rative words,  helped  to  make  the  popular  mind  ductile 
and  softer  for  the  reception  of  ideas.  The  literature  of 
Greece,  France,  Scandinavia  and  England  was  equally 
built  on  a  basis  of  poetry. 

As  I  said  in  the  commencement,  it  is  difficult  to  de- 
scribe the  intellectual  growth  of  a  race  during  those 
remote  ages,   without  the  illustration  of  its    history. 


28  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

Yet  we  have  tlie  relationship  of  blood  and  character  to 
assist  us,  and  I  rely  somewhat  on  those  intellectual 
instincts  which  have  come  down  to  us  from  the  Goths 
and  Saxons,  to  fill  up  some  of  my  own  omissions.  To  me, 
the  lines  of  the  ''Heliand  "  and  ^' Hildebrandslied  " — even 
the  Gothic  words  of  Ulfilas — have  something  familiar 
and  home-like  about  them.  Without  making  any  spe- 
cial study  of  the  language,  the  meaning  gradually  comes 
of  itself,  like  something  which  has  been  once  learned 
and  then  forgotten.  In  the  age  of  the  Minnesingers 
and  the  courtly  epics,  to  which  we  now  turn,  we  shall 
find  fancy  and  feeling  and  elegant  versification,  but 
nothing  more  artlessly  simple,  more  vigorous  or  noble, 
than  the  songs  of  the  earliest  days. 


n. 

THE  MINNESINGERS. 

In  spite  of  Buckle  and  the  other  writers  of  his  school, 
all  the  phenomena  of  human  civilization  cannot  yet  be 
so  arranged  and  classified  that  we  are  able  to  find  their 
inevitable  causes.  Wealth  may  follow  commerce,  in- 
dustry and  order  may  follow  peace  and  just  government ; 
but  the  literature  and  the  art  of  a  people  arise  through  a 
combination  of  influences,  which  we  cannot  always  trace 
to  their  sources.  But  we  may  at  least  discover  the  cir- 
cumstances and  conditions  which  encourage  or  depress 
their  growth.  "When  a  period  of  creative  activity  has 
commenced,  we  can  then  partly  account  for  its  character. 
In  other  words,  no  one  can  explain  how  that  mysterious 
quality  which  we  call  genius  is  planted  in  the  spirit  of 
man ;  but,  after  it  has  been  so  planted,  and  begins  to 
select  the  material  for  its  work,  its  operation  is  modi- 
fied according  to  general  intellectual  laws,  the  eifect  of 
'  which  upon  it  may  be  studied. 

There  are  three  circumstances  in  the  history  of  Ger- 
many, which  did  not  produce  the  famous  company  of 
authors  in  the  twelfth  and  thirteenth  centuries,  but 
which  greatly  favored  their  productiveness,  and  wonder- 

29 


30  GEBMAN  LITERATUBE. 

fullj  helped  the  literary  development  of  the  entire  Ger- 
man j)eople.  These  circumstances  are  in  chronological 
order — first,  the  Crusades  ;  second,  the  accession  of  the 
Hohenstaufens  to  the  imperial  throne ;  and  third,  the 
rise  of  Provengal  literature,  the  first  native  growth  from 
any  of  the  Eomanic  languages.  These  were  contempo- 
rary events ;  for,  although  the  first  crusaders  captured 
Jerusalem  in  1099,  the  Emperor  Conrad  III.,  the  first 
Hohenstaufen,  was  crowned  in  1138,  and  took  part  in 
the  second  crusade  in  1147.  After  the  recajDture  of 
Jerusalem  by  Saladin  in  1187,  Barbarossa  led  the  third 
crusade  in  1189 — the  same  in  which  Philip  Augustus  of 
France  and  Eichard  the  Lion-heart  were  commanders. 
Finally,  Frederick  II.,  the  Hohenstaufen,  and  the  great- 
est German  emperor  since  Charlemagne,  undertook  the 
fifth  crusade  in  1228.  The  Hohenstaufen  line  ceased 
with  the  death  of  Conrad  11.  in  1254 

Now,  if  we  turn  to  Provencal  history,  we  shall  find 
that  the  poetry  of  the  Troubadours  was  developed 
from  the  rude  popular  song  and  ballad  into  that  ele- 
gance and  melodious  form  which  made  it  the  courtly 
minstrelsy  of  France  and  Italy,  between  the  years  1090 
and  1140,  and  that  its  period  of  achievement  lasted 
until  the  year  1250,  so  that  the  golden  era  of  Provencal 
literature  exactly  corresponded  with  the  reign  of  the 
Hohenstaufen  line.  Rudel,  whose  romantic  love  for  the 
Princess  of  Tripoli  has  inspired  so  many  later  ballads, 
was  a  contemporary  of  Diethmar  von  Aist,  one  of  the 


THE  MINNESINGERS,  31 

first  Minnesingers;  and  Bertrand  de  Born,  in  whose 
lines  we  hear  the  blast  of  the  trumpet  and  the  clash 
of  swords,  was  a  contemporary  of  Walther  von  der  Yo- 
gelweide,  who  sang  of  birds  and  the  blossoms  of  May. 
Some  of  the  German  scholars  deny  that  the  trouba- 
dours contributed  toward  the  revival  of  poetry  by  the 
Minnesingers,  for  the  reason  that  the  former  sang  of 
battles  and  heroic  deeds,  while  the  latter  sang  of  love 
and  sorrow  and  the  influence  of  Nature.  This  distinc- 
tion is  correctly  drawn  :  the  Minnesingers  were  not 
imitators,  but  nevertheless  they  did  owe  their  immediate 
popularity  in  Germany,  and  the  encouragement  accorded 
to  them  by  the  ruling  princes,  to  the  fashion  which  was 
first  set  by  the  Courts  of  Aix,  Toulouse  and  Arragon. 
In  fact,  William,  Count  of  Poitiers,  was  one  of  the  earli- 
est troubadours,  and  three  kings  of  Arragon  are  named 
in  the  list  of  minstrels.  Then,  as  in  Schiller's  poem, 
"The  Might  of  Song,"  the  poet  sat  beside  the  monarch, 
if  he  did  not  happen  to  be  a  monarch  himself. 

Turning  to  the  history  of  the  house  of  Hohenstaufen, 
we  find  that  although  six  emperors  of  that  house 
reigned  from  1138  to  1254,  a  period  of  one  hundred 
and  sixteen  years,  the  character  and  importance  of  the 
Hohenstaufen  rule  is  due  to  two  men,  Frederick  Bar- 
barossa,  who  reigned  thirty-eight  years,  and  his  grand- 
son, Frederick  II.,  who  reigned  thirty-six  years.  Both 
of  them  were  men  of  culture  and  refined  literary  taste, 
and  Frederick  II.  himself  wrote  poems  in  the  Arabic 


32  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

and  Provencal  languages.  Even  tlie  boj  Conradin,  tlie 
last  of  the  line,  wlio  was  executed  bj  Charles  of  Anjou 
in  1268,  left  two  German  poems  behind  him.  Both 
Barbarossa  and  Frederick  II.  distinguished  themselves 
by  a  bold  and  determined  resistance  to  the  growing 
power  of  the  Popes.  They  were  both  called  "  heretics" 
by  the  clergy ;  Frederick  II.  was  excommunicated,  his 
sudden  death  was  attributed  to  poison,  and  it  was  the 
influence  of  Rome  which  exterminated  his  race  within 
twenty  years  after  his  death ;  yet,  during  the  century 
of  the  Hohenstaufens,  Germany  was  comparatively  free 
from  the  nightmare  of  priestly  rule.  Barbarossa  be- 
came the  symbol  of  national  sentiment  and  national 
unity  among  the  people  :  Frederick  II.  laid  the  founda- 
tion for  that  middle  class,  between  the  nobles  and  the 
peasants,  which  is  the  present  strength  of  every  nation 
of  Europe ;  and  he  began  unconsciously  to  prepare 
the  way  for  Luther,  three  hundred  years  before  the 
Reformer's  birth.  They  were  great  political  architects, 
who  builded  broader  and  stronger  than  they  knew. 
From  the  Rhone  to  Mount  Tabor  and  the  Sea  of  Gali- 
lee, from  the  Baltic  to  the  gardens  of  Sicily,  their 
lives  were  battles  and  marches ;  they  sat  on  portable 
thrones,  and  their  palaces  were  tents. 

Although  Europe  paid  five  million  lives  for  a  ninety 
years'  occupation  of  Jerusalem,  and  a  two  hundred 
years'  possession  of  the  coast  of  Palestine,  her  real 
gain  was  worth  the  sacrifice.     The  nations  drew  new 


THE  MINNESINGERS.  33 

virtues  and  new  graces  of  character  from  the  Crusades. 
Their  people  came  out  of  seclusion  into  a  grand  con- 
tinental society ;  all  minor  interests  were  lost  in  the 
two  great  inspirations — war  and  religion ;  narrow  preju- 
dices were  swept  away,  ignorance  corrected,  knowl- 
edge exchanged,  and  Christian  courtesy  began  to  take 
the  place  of  barbaric  manners.  When,  in  some  Phry- 
gian forest,  or  some  valley  of  Taurus  or  Lebanon,  the 
Provencal  sat  beside  the  Saxon,  the  Norman  beside  the 
Suabian,  and  the  lively  strains  of  the  jongleur  alter- 
nated with  some  grave  old  Teutonic  ballad  in  the  saga- 
measure,  there  was  already  that  stimulus  of  emulation 
which  is  the  first  condition  of  literary  growth.  The 
three  influences  which  I  have  mentioned  were  blended 
together  in  their  operation  on  the  German  people — 
the  education  of  the  Crusades,  the  courtly  fashion  of 
song,  with  the  elegant  Provencal  models,  and  finally 
the  intelligence  and  taste  of  the  rulers,  combined  with 
their  defiance  of  the  authority  of  Rome. 

In  regard  to  this  latter  point,  I  must  add  a  word  of 
explanation.  I  should  not  venture  to  say  that  the 
intellectual  development  of  an  individual  or  a  race  is 
very  seriously  affected  by  the  character  of  his  or  its 
religious  faith.  Barbarossa,  Frederick  II.,  Walther 
von  der  Vogelweide,  Wolfram  von  Eschenbach,  were 
Catholics,  as  were  Dante  and  Tasso.  But  I  do  assert, 
with  the  positiveness  of  profoundest  belief,  that  no 
other  agency  in  the  history  of  man  has  so  injuriously 
2^ 


34  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

interfered  with  his  growth  in  knowledge  as  the  ec- 
clesiastical power  of  any  faith  which  seeks  to  bring 
under  its  exclusive  control  and  government  all  forms 
of  intellectual  growth.  In  this  country,  where  we  have 
never  had,  and  never  can  have,  a  union  of  Church  and 
State,  it  is  difficult  for  us  to  understand  the  spiritual 
tyranny  which  any  form  of  religious  belief  will  always 
assume  when  it  has  the  power.  The  Church  of  Eome, 
in  the  Middle  Ages,  was  despotic,  because  all  civilized 
Christendom  belonged  to  it ;  but  any  earlier  or  later 
variety  of  faith  would,  under  the  same  circumstances, 
have  assumed  the  same  character.  Tolerance  is  always 
an  acquired,  not  a  natural  virtue.  In  the  development 
of  German  Literature,  the  religious  element  every  now 
and  then  asserts  itself,  and  must  be  mentioned.  I 
wish,  therefore,  to  treat  it  simply  as  an  inevitable  fact, 
without  prejudice  or  partisan  views. 

For  two  hundred  and  fifty  years,  as  we  have  seen, 
the  creative  spirit  of  literature  in  Germany  had  been 
sunk  in  a  sleep  like  death ;  but  it  now  began  to  re- 
vive. It  meets  us,  at  the  start,  in  a  new  character, 
and  is  the  expression  of  a  new  spirit.  The  stages  of 
transition  between  the  '' Hildehrandslied,''  the  "Heliand/' 
the  rhymed  couplets  of  Otfried  and  Hucbald  and  the 
smooth,  elaborate  stanzas  of  the  Minnesingers,  have 
been  lost.  The  new  race  of  minstrels  began  by  bor- 
rowing form  and  melody  from  the  troubadours ;  but 
this  was  all  they  borrowed.     They  belonged  to  an  im- 


THE  MINNESINGERS.  35 

pressible,  emotional  race,  in  whom  the  elejnents  of  song 
always  existed,  and  in  whom  the  joy  of  expressing  and 
communicating  fancy  and  feeling  to  others  was  always 
strong.  Their  language  had  so  changed  in  the  mean- 
time  that  it  is  now  called  the  Mediaeval  High-German 
by  scholars,  to  distinguish  it  from  the  Old  High-Ger- 
man of  Charlemagne's  time.  The  first  attempts  at 
lyrical  poetry,  in  the  twelfth  century,  show  the  stiff 
joints  of  a  speech  which  is  not  accustomed  to  trip  in 
musical  measures  ;  but  it  very  soon  became  flexible  and 
warm,  and  learned  to  follow  the  moods  of  its  masters. 

The  age  that  now  commences  was  especially  one  of 
epic  poetry,  and  quite  as  remarkable  in  this  respect  as 
was  the  age  of  Elizabeth  for  English  dramatic  poetry. 
The  Minnesingers  did  not  precede  the  epic  poets,  but 
w^ere  contemporaneous  with  them,  and  both  of  the  titles 
may  be  applied  with  equal  justice  to  several  famous 
authors.  I  take  the  lighter  strains  first,  because  they 
spring  more  directly  from  the  character  of  the  age,  and 
are  a  part  of  that  minstrelsy  which  you  will  meet  in 
English  history,  in  the  persons  of  Taillefer  and  Blondel 
and  Richard  of  the  Lion-Heart.  In  fact,  the  song  of 
love  or  sorrow  was  as  common  throughout  Europe  as  the 
red-cross  on  the  left  shoulder  of  the  Crusader.  These 
songs  were  remembered  and  sung  by  thousands  who 
were  unable  to  hear  or  recite  the  epic  poems,  and  thus 
the  people  were  taught  to  enjoy  brief  lyrics  of  action  or 
feeling.     The  lyrical  poetry  of  every  modern  language 


36 


GERMAN  LITERATURE. 


grew  from  this  basis,  and  our  chief  wonder,  in  contrast- 
ing the  lays  of  the  troubadours  with  those  of  this  day, 
must  be  that  the  improvement,  so  far  as  concerns  the 
graces  of  rhythmical  form,  has  been  so  slight  between 
that  time  and  this. 

We  have  the  names  and  many  of  the  poems  of  a  large 
number  of  the  Minnesingers — quite  as  many,  indeed,  as 
is  necessary ;  but  our  knowledge  of  the  authors  is  gene- 
rally defective,  and  an  exact  chronological  arrangement 
of  them  cannot  be  made.  One  of  the  earliest  is  Dieth- 
mar  von  Aist,  and  I  quote  his  little  song  of  the  "  Falcon," 
because  its  subject  is  simple  and  unaffected,  while  the 
language  shows  that  rhyme  is  still  an  unaccustomed 
restraint. 


Ez  stuont  ein  vrouwe  aleine 
tint  warte  uber  heide, 
unt  warte  ilir  liebes, 
so  gesach  sie  valken  vliegen. 
So  wol  dir,  valke,  daz  du  bist ! 
Du  vliugest,  swar  dir  lieb  ist ; 
du  erkiusest  dir  in  dem  walde 
einen  bourn,  der  dir  gevalle. 
Also  ban  oncb  ib  getan  : 
ib  erkos  mir  selben  einen  man 
den  erwehlten  miniu  ougen  ; 
daz  nident  scbone  vrouwen. 
O  we,  wan  lant  si  mir  min  liep  ? 

jo  engerte  icb  ir  dekeines  trutes 

niet !" 
So  wol  dir,  sumerwunne  ! 
Daz  gevogel  sane  ist  gesunde, 
alse  ist  der  linden  ir  loup. 


Tbere  stood  alone  a  lady 
And  waited  on  tbe  moorland, 
And  waited  for  her  lover, 
And  saw  tbe  falcon  flying. 
All,  liappy  falcon  tbat  tbou  art  I 
Tbou  fliest  wbere  tbou  pleasest; 
Tbou  cboosest  from  the  forest 
The  tree  which  best  thou  lovest. 
And  tlius  have  I  done  also  : 
I  chose  a  man  to  be  mine  own, 
In  mine  eyes  tbe  one  elected, 
And  envied  am  by  fairest  dames. 
Alas,  why  will  they  not  leave 

my  love? 
For  none  of  theirs  I  ever  han- 
kered." 
Fair  art  thou,  joy  of  summer  ! 
The  song  of  birds  is  wholesome 
As  are  its  leaves  unto  the  linden. 


TEE  MINNESINGERS.  37 

I  must  pass  over  many  names — Frieclricli  von  Hansen, 
the  brave  knight  who  fell  in  Asia  Minor,  Heinrich  von 
Veldeck,  Hartmann  von  Aue,  and  other  noble  minstrels 
— only  pausing  to  quote  this  one  verse  of  Heinrich  von 
Morungen : 

Ez  ist  site  der  nahtegal,  'Tis  the  way  of  the  nightin- 
gale, 

swan  si  ir  lie!  volendet,  s6  ge-  That  when  her  song  is  finished 

swiget  sie  ;  she  sings  no  more  ; 

Dur  daz  volge  ab  ich  der  swal,  But  the  swallow  as  mate  I  hail, 

diu  durch  liehe,  noch  durch  leide  Who  neither  for  love  nor  woe, 

ir  singen  nie  verlie.  ceases  her  strain  to  pour. 

Reimar  the  Old  is  another  who  tempts  me  with  the 
increasing  sweetness  of  his  lines  ;  but  I  must  also  pass 
him  by  to  reach  the  fairest  and  most  attractive  name 
among  the  Minnesingers — Walther  von  der  Vogelweide. 
"Where  or  when  he  was  born,  we  do  not  know  :  his  youth 
w^as  spent  in  Austria,  at  the  court  of  Duke  Frederick. 
At  the  close  of  the  twelfth  century  we  find  him  with 
Philip  of  Hohenstaufen,  then  with  Otto  of  Wittelsbach, 
defying  Pope  Innocent  III.  in  bold  verses,  when  the 
Pope  excommunicated  the  Emperor ;  and,  finally,  fol- 
lowing Frederick  II.  to  Palestine,  scourging  priests  and 
monks  with  his  satire,  openly  scoffing  at  the  claims  of 
the  Papal  power,  and,  as  a  writer  of  his  time  charges, 
"turning  thousands  from  their  duty  to  Eome."  He  was 
ennobled  by  Frederick  II.  and  presented  with  an  estate 
near  Wiirzburg.  He  was  buried  in  the  cathedral  of  that 
city,  leaving  a  sum  of  money  to  the  monastery  to  buy  corn 


38  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

for  the  birds  which  were  fed  out  of  four  hollow  spaces 
cut  in  the  top-slab  of  his  tombstone.  His  will  was  car- 
ried out  for  several  hundred  years,  and  the  tombstone, 
with  the  hollows  for  the  Fogeliveide,  still  exists. 

In  his  youth,  Walther  von  der  Yogelweide  was  poor. 
He  began  life  as  a  jongleur,  a  traveling  minstrel,  riding 
from  castle  to  castle,  and  singing  his  songs  to  lords  and 
ladies,  to  the  accompaniment  of  his  violin.  Even  after 
he  reached  the  life  of  courts  and  became  the  minstrel 
of  emperors,  his  circumstances  do  not  seem  to  have  im- 
proved. Some  touching  verses  still  exist,  wherein  he 
begs  Frederick  II.  to  grant  him  a  home  which  he  may 
call  his  own.  "Have  pity,"  he  says,  "that  I  am  left  so 
poor,  with  all  my  rich  art.  If  I  could  once  warm  my- 
self at  my  own  hearth,  how  would  I  then  sing  of  the 
birds  and  of  flowers  and  of  love !  "  He  adds  that  he  is 
tired  of  the  title  of  "  guest " — if  he  can  only  be  "  host," 
instead  of  "guest,"  he  will  ask  no  more.  It  is  pleasant 
to  know  that  Frederick  was  moved  by  this  appeal,  and 
gave  the  weary  old  j^oet  a  home. 

In  Walther's  songs,  we  find  the  nature  of  the  born 
poet  enforcing  its  own  expression.  The  imperfect  Ger- 
man of  his  day  becomes  fluent  and  musical  in  his  verses; 
but  the  truer  test  of  his  quality  is  that  we  soon  cease  to 
think  of  the  language,  quaint  and  strange  as  it  appears, 
and  are  brought  face  to  face,  and  heart  to  heart,  with 
the  minstrel  himself.  More  than  any  other  poet  of  the 
Middle  Ages,  he  seems  to  us  modern  in  feeling  and  in 


TEE  MINNESINGERS. 


39 


style.  He  was  one  of  tlie  very  first,  not  merely  to  de- 
scribe Nature  and  rural  life,  but  to  express  a  sweet  and 
artless  delight  in  her  manifold  aspects.  After  him, 
Chaucer,  then  Shakespeare,  with  a  long  interval  between, 
Cowper  and  Wordsworth,  and,  among  us,  Longfellow, 
Bryant  and  Whittier,  have  chanted  the  beauty  of  the 
external  world ;  but,  with  all  their  higher  graces  of  art, 
none  of  them  can  so  immediately  set  us  in  the  midst  of 
May-time,  blossoms  and  bird-songs,  by  a  simple,  child- 
like line,  as  Walther  von  der  Vogelweide. 

Here  is  a  little  song  of  his,  called  *'Maienwonne^^  (the 
Bliss  of  May) : 


Muget    ir    scliouwen,  waz   dem 
meien 
wunders  ist  beschert  ? 

Selit  an,  pfaffen,  selit  an,  leien, 

wie  daz  allez  vert ! 

Groz  ist  sin  gewalt  ; 
ine  weiz,  ob  er  zouber  kiinne  : 
swar  er  vert  mit  siner  wiinne, 

dan  is  niemen  alt. 


Would  you  see  how  May  to 
May-men 
Bringeth  marvels  new  ; 
Priests,  behold  ! — behold  it  lay 
men, 
What  his  might  can  do  I 
He  is  uncontrolled  : 
I  know  not  if  magic  is  it  ; 
When  his  joys  the  world  re- 
visit, 
Then  is  no  one  old. 


Wol  dir,  meie,  wie  du  scheidest 
allez  ane  haz  ! 

Wie  wol  du  die  boume  kleidest 
und  die  heide  baz  ! 

Diu  hat  varwe  me. 
'*  Da  bistkurzer,  ich  bin  langer  \" 

also  stritents  uf  dem  auger 

bluomen  unde  kle. 


Happy  May,  thy  spell  divideth 

All,  but  not  in  hate  ! 
Every  tree  in  leafage  hideth. 
Nor  the  moorlands  wait. 
Colors  fall  in  showers  : 
"  I  am  long  and  thou  art  short," 
Thus  iu  fields  they  strive  and 
sport. 
Clover,  grass  and  flowers. 


40 


GERMAN  LITERATURE. 


Roter  mund,  wie  dii  dich  swa- 
chest ! 
La  din  lachen  sin  ! 

Sham  dich,  daz  dii  mich  an  la- 
chest 
nach  dem  schaden  min. 

1st  daz  wol  getan  ? 
Owe  so  veiiorner  stuude  ! 

So]  von  minneclichem  munde 

solch  unminne  ergan  ? 


Rosy  mouth,  why  thus  degrade 
thee. 
Let  thy  laughter  be  I 
Shame  of  scorn  shall  not  evade 
thee, 
After  wounding  me. 
Doest  thou  kindly  so  ? 
Ah,  lost  hours  that  we  are  prov- 
ing. 
When    from  lips  that  seem  so 
loving 
Such  unlove  should  flow  ! 


Altliough  this  song  has  the  character  of  a  Leich,  in 
suggesting  music,  the  language  is  nowhere  bent  to 
adapt  itself  to  the  rhythm.  Form  and  substance  melo- 
diously embrace  each  other  :  the  stanza  shows  that  the 
author  has  carefully  studied  rhythmical  effect,  yet  his 
feeling  fills  it  so  evenly  that  the  measure  seems  as  un- 
studied as  the  song  of  a  bird.  The  alliteration  of  the 
saga  is  also  retained,  but  so  skillfully,  so  delicately  sub- 
ordinate to  the  expression  of  joy  in  the  May-time,  that 
we  do  not  immediately  perceive  it. 

Here  is  another  minne-song,  remarkable  for  being 
written  in  the  dactylic  measure  : 


W61  mich  der  stunde,  daz  ich 
sie  erkande, 
diu  mir  den  lip  und  den  muot 
hat  betwungen, 
sit  deich  die  sinne  so  gar  an  sie 
wande, 
der  si   mich    hat    mit  ir  giiete 
verdrungen  ! 


Happy  the  moment  when  first 
I  beheld  her. 
Conquering  body  and  soul  with 
her  beauty  ; 
Since  when  my  service  the  more 
hath  compelled  her 
Still  with  her  kindness  to  fet- 
ter my  duty. 


THE  MINNESINGERS. 


41 


daz  icTi  gescheiden  von  ir  nilit 

enkan, 
daz  hat  ir  schoene  und  ir  giiette 

geinachet 
und  ir  roter  mund,  der  so  liep- 

liclieu  lachet. 


So  that  from  her  I  can  never 

more  part. 
This    from    her    goodness    and 

grace,  and  thereafter 
Her    roseate    mouth,    with   the 

charm  of  its  laughter. 


Ich     han    den   muot  und   die 
sinne  gewendet 
an  die  vil  reinen,  die  lieben,  die 
guoten  : 
daz  muez'  uns  beiden  wol  wer- 
den  volendet 
swes  ich  getar  an  ir  hulde  ge- 
muoten. 
swaz  ich  ie  freuden  zer  we  ride 
gewan, 
daz  hat  ir  schoene  und  ir  gliete 

gemachet 
und   ir  roter  munt,  der  so  liep- 
licheu  lachet. 


Spirit   and    senses  and  thought 
I  have  given 
Unto  the  best  and  the  purest 
and  dearest  ; 
Now  must  the  bliss  be  complete, 
as  in  heaven, 
Since  I  have  dared  to  desire 

to  be  nearest. 
If    the  world's    blisses   were 
dear  to  my  heart, 
'Twas    from  her  goodness  and 

grace,  and  thereafter 
Her    roseate    mouth,    with    the 
charm  of  its  laughter. 


I  find  in  tliese  little  madrigals  of  Waltlier  von  der 
Vogelweide,  the  same  grace  and  sweetness  and  willful 
play  of  fancy,  as  in  those  of  Herrick  and  Carew.  His 
sentiment  for  women  is  of  the  most  refined  and  knightly 
character ;  and  it  is  remarkable  how  the  fine  enthusi- 
asm of  his  nature  breaks  out  as  fresh  and  ardent  as 
ever,  whenever  he  mentions  love  or  the  spring-time. 
Before  turning  to  his  didactic  and  satirical  strains,  I 
must  quote  three  more  stanzas,  in  illustration  of  this 
delightful  quality.  The  first  is  from  his  poem  of  "  The 
Glorious  Dame  " — "  Die  Herrliclie  Frau.'^ 


4:2 


GERMAN  LITEUATURE. 


Got  hate  ir  wengel  liohen  fliz  : 
er  streicli  so  tiure  varwe  dar, 

so  reine  rot,  so  reine  wiz, 

hie  roeseloht,  dort  liljenvar. 
Ob  ich'z  vor  siinden  tar  gesa- 
gen, 
so  saehe  ich  s'iemer  gerner  an 

dan  himel  oder  himelwagen. 
Owe  waz  lobe  ich  tumber  man  ? 
mach'  ich  sie  mir  ze  her, 
vil  lihte  wirt  mins  mundes  lop 
mins  herzen  ser. 


God  was  so  careful  of  her  cheeks; 
He  spread  such  precious  colors 

there, 
That  pure   and   perfect,    eithef 

speaks, 
Here  rosj-red,  there  lily -fair. 
Not  meaning  sin,  will  I  declare 

That  I  more  fain  on  her  would 
gaze 

Than  on  the  sky  or  Starry  Bear. 

Ah,  foolish  me,  what  is't  I  praise  ? 

If  I,  too  fond,  exalt  her  so. 

How  soon  the  lip's  delight  be- 
comes the  bosom's  woe. 


Now  take  the  opening  stanzas  of  liis  song — "  Sj)ring 
and  Women,"  which  I  quote  on  account  of  its  bright, 
sunny  character  : 


So  die  bluomen  uz  dem  grase 
dringent, 
same  si  lachen  gegen  der  spile- 
den  sunnen, 
in  einem  meien  an  dem  morgen 
fruo, 
und   die  kleinen  vogellin  wol 
singent 
in  ir  besten  wise  die  sie  kunnen, 

waz  wlinne  mac  sich  da  genozen 
zuo  ? 
ez  ist  wol  halb  ein  himelriche. 
Suln  wir  sprechen,  waz  sich  deme 

geliche, 
s6  sage  ich,  waz  mir  dicke  baz 


^Vhen   the   blossoms   from   the 

grass  are  springing. 
As  they  laughed   to   meet    the 

sparkling  sun. 
Early  on  some  lovely  morn  of 

May, 
And  all  the  small  birds  on  the 

boughs  are  singing 
Best    of     music,    finished    and 

again  begun. 
What  other   equal   rapture  can 

we  pray  ? 
It  is  already  half  of  heaven. 
But  should  we  guess  what  other 

might  be  given. 
So  I  declare,  that,  which  in  my 

sight, 
in  minen  ougen  hat  getan  und  Still  better  seems,  and  still  ^vould 
taete  ouch  noch,  gesaehe  ich  seem,  had   I  the  same  de- 

daz.  light. 


THE  MINNE8JN0BBS.  43 

Swa  ein  edeliu  schoene  f  rouwe      When  a  noWe  dame  of  purest 

beauty 
wol  gTkleidetunde  wol  gebun-      Well    attired,    with   even  gar- 

°  nislied  tresses, 

dnrch  kurzewile  zuo  vil  Uuten      Unto  all,  in  social  haWt,  goes, 

hovdiehen  hOehgemuot,  niht      Finely  gracious,  yet  subdued  to 

duty, 
umbrslende  ein  wenic  under      Whose    impartial     glance    her 

State  expresses, 
^samlrlnne  gegen  den  ster-      As  on  stars  the  sun  his  radiance 

throws  ! 
der'mr  bringe  uns  al  sin  Then  let  May  his  bliss  renew 

-,  US  : 

wa.  Tst'dr;6  wunnecliches  un-      What  is  there  so  blissful  to  us 

als  ir  vil  minneclicher  lip  ?  As  her  lips  of  love  to  see  ? 

We  possess  nearly  tvo  hundred  of  the  poems  and 
songs  of  Walther  von  der  Vogelweide.     Some  of  them 
are  brief  single  verses,  which  chronicle  some  event  of 
his  life  or  his  individual  relation  to  the  times  m  which 
he  lived  ;  yet,  slight  as  they  are,  they  are  characterized 
by  a  roundness,  a  completeness,   an  elegance,,  which 
show  the  master's  hand.     I  should  like  to  quote  some 
stanzasof  his  poem  "  In  the  Promised  Land,"  apparently 
written  in  Palestine;  but  my  space  is  so  brief  that  I 
prefer  selecting,  as  more  characteristic  of  the  Hohen- 
staufen  period,  his  defiance  of  Pope  Innocent  III.,  writ- 
ten after  the  latter  had  excommunicated  the  Emperor 
Otto.     He  commenced  by  comparing  him  to  Pope  Syl- 


44  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

vester  II.,  whose  former  name  was  Gerbert,  wlio  had 
the  common  reputation  of  being  a  magician,  and  was 
believed  by  the  peoj^le  to  have  been  carried  off  by  the 
Devil.     Walther  says  : 

Der  stuol  ze  Rome  ist  allererst  berilitet  rehte 
als  hie  vor  bi  einem  zouberaere  Gerbrrehte. 
Der  gap  ze  valle  niwet  wan  sin  eines  leben : 
s6  wil  sicli  dirre  uud  al  die  kristenlieit  ze  valle  geben. 
Wan  riiefent  alle  zungen  bin  ze  liimele  wafen 
iind  fragent  got,  wie  lange  er  welle  slafen  ? 
Sie  widerwiirkent  siniu  were  und  velschent  siniu  wort : 
sin  kameraere  stilt  im  sinen  bimelhort, 
sin  sliener  roubet  hie  und  mordet  dort, 
sin  birte  ist  z'einem  wolve  im  worden  under  sinen  scbafen. 

The  chair  at  Rome  is  now  properly  filled,  as  it  was  formerly  by 
the  magician  Gerbert.  He  plunged  into  ruin  only  his  own  one  soul  : 
the  present  one  will  ruin  himself  and  all  Christendom.  WTiy  do  not 
all  tongues  cry  to  heaven,  and  ask  God  how  long  He  will  quietly  look 
on?  They  oppose  His  works,  and  counterfeit  His  words  :  the  Pope's 
treasurers  steal  from  God's  heavenly  hoard  :  his  judges  rob  here,  and 
murder  there,  and  God's  shepherd  has  become  a  wolf  among  His 
sheeiD. 

Here  is  another,  even  stronger,  provoked  by  the 
simony,  which  was  then  prevalent  in  the  Church,  and 
the  sale  of  absolutions  which,  three  hundred  years 
later,  gave  Luther  such  a  weapon  against  Eome : 

Ir  bischov'  unde  ir  edelen  pfaffen,  ir  sit  verleitet. 
Selit  wie  inch  der  babest  mit  des  tievels  stricken  seitet  1 
Saget  ir  uns,  daz  er  sant  Peters  sliizzel  habe, 
so  saget,  war  umbe  er  sine  lere  von  den  buochen  schabe  ? 
Daz  man  gotes  gabe  iht  koufe  oder  verkoafe, 
daz  wart  uns  verboten  bi  der  toufe. 


THE  MmNE8IN0ER8.  45 

Nu  lere  et'z  in  sin  swarzez  buocli,  daz  ime  der  liellem6r 

hat  gegeben,  und  uz  im  lese  et  siniu  ror, 

Ir  kardenaele,  ir  decket  iuwern  kor  : 

tinser  alter  frone  der  stet  undr  einer  iibelen  troufe. 

Ye  bishops  and  je  noble  priests,  you  are  misled.  See  how  the 
Pope  entangles  you  in  the  Devil's  net  !  If  yon  say  to  me  that  he  has 
the  keys  of  St.  Peter,  then  tell  me  why  he  banishes  St.  Peter's  teach- 
ing from  the  Bible  ?  By  our  baptism  it  is  forbidden  to  us  that  God's 
sacraments  should  be  bought  or  sold  !  But  now  let  him  read  that 
in  his  black  book,  which  the  DevU  gave  him,  and  take  his  tune  from 
Hell's  pipe  !  Ye  cardinals,  ye  roof  your  choirs  well ;  but  our  old 
holy  altar  stands  exposed  to  evil  weather. 

This  is  strong  language  for  the  year  1200.  In  other 
poems  Walther  speaks  of  the  inefficiency  of  a  pro- 
fession of  faith,  without  good  works,  very  much  as 
any  practical  Christian  of  our  clay  might  speak.  His 
boldness  was  equal  to  his  honesty :  he  gives  us  a  very 
distinct  impression  of  his  fine,  manly,  independent 
character,  of  a  life  unstained  by  the  prevalent  vices 
of  his  day,  and  of  a  simple,  loving  nature  which 
his  many  years  of  court-life  do  not  seem  to  have 
vitiated.  When  he  asks  Frederick  II.  to  give  him  a 
home,  it  is  because  he  feels  that  his  services  deserve  re- 
ward ;  and,  indeed,  the  property  he  finally  received  was 
barely  sufficient  to  support  him  in  his  age.  The  dis- 
tinguished Minnesingers  were  nearly  all  of  noble  blood ; 
for  the  nobles  of  Provence  and  Arragon  had  set  the 
fashion,  and  it  was  not  so  easy  for  a  plebeian  minstrel 
to  crowd  his  way  into  the  company  of  the  knightly 
singers.     Walther  von  der  Vogelweide  did  this — for  he 


46  GERMAN  LITERATURE, 

was  ennobled  late  in  life — and  lie  also,  by  the  force  of  his 
native  genius,  made  his  supremacy-  acknowledged.  Al- 
though we  know  less  of  him  than  of  many  of  his  con- 
tem23oraries,  we  cannot  study  the  literature  of  the  day 
without  finding  that  his  character  immediately  detaches 
itself  from  the  company  around  him,  and  shines  out 
alone  in  its  clearness  and  sweetness  and  strength. 

The  number  of  Minnesingers  is  quite  large,  but  many 
of  them  have  but  a  slight  literary  importance,  and  I 
will  not  burden  your  memories  with  a  complete  cata- 
logue. Passing  over  Ulric  von  Singenberg,  who  wrote  a 
lament  for  Walther  von  der  Vogelweide,  I  shall  j)ause  a 
moment  at  the  name  of  Nithart,  who  is  interesting  from 
the  circumstance  that,  although  he  was  a  wealthy  noble, 
the  material  of  his  songs  was  mostly  drawn  from  pea- 
sant life,  and  have  almost  a  coarsely  realistic  character, 
while  Walther,  the  born  peasant,  is  always  noble  and 
dignified  in  his  verses.  Nithart  was  also  a  crusader ; 
his  poetic  life  belongs  to  the  middle  of  the  thirteenth 
century.  His  pictures  of  common  life,  dances,  festivals, 
love-making,  tricks  and  quarrels,  are  lively  and  some- 
times amusing,  but  prosaic  in  tone.  He  was  a  ready 
rhymer  rather  than  a  poet. 

One  of  Walther  von  der  Yogelweide's  imitators,  who 
during  his  life  acquired  nearly  an  equal  fame,  is  called 
the  Marner,  an  old  German  word  corresponding  exactly 
with  our  Mariner.  His  real  name  is  unknown,  although 
he  was  said  to  have  been  a  nobleman.     His  verses  have 


THE  MmNESINGERS. 


47 


a  more  didactic  character  than  those  of  his  master,  but 
in  rhythmical  form  they  show  an  almost  equal  skill. 
Walther  was  really  the  first  who  gave  fluency  and  music 
to  the  High-German  dialect,  and  his  followers,  whatever 
might  be  their  amount  of  talent,  were  quick  to  copy  the 
external  graces  of  his  style.  Of  the  many  poems  of  the 
Marner,  I  will  quote  one  in  which  he  mentions  the 
themes  he  is  accustomed  to  sing  at  court : 


Icli  sunge  ein  bispel  oder  ein 
spel, 
ein  warheit  oder  ein  liige, 
icli  sunge  wol,  wie  Titurel 

die    Tempi eise    bi   dem    grale 

ziige, 
wie  siieze  ist  Sirenen  don  und  arc 

des  cocatrillen  zorn. 
Icli  sunge  oucli  drachen  viurin 

kel, 
unt  wie  der  grife  vliige, 
wie  sich  des  salamander  vel 
in    heizem    viure    stralite    und 

smiige 
unt  wie  sich  teilt  sliimaeren  lip 

unt  wie  diu  vipper  wirt  ge- 

born. 
Icb  sunge  oucli  wol,  wie  siniu 

eiger  briieten  kan  der  struz  ; 
icb  sunge  oucli  wol,  wie  sicli  der 

fenix  junget  uz  ; 
ich  sunge  ouch  wie  der  lit, 

der  manigen  in  der  wunderburc 
verslanden  bat  dur  sinen 
git. 


I  would  sing  a  fable  or  a  tale, 

A  truth  or  lie,  for  good  example ; 
How  forth    to    seek    the   Holy 

Grail 
Titurel  led  the  knights  of  the 

Temple  ; 
How  fierce  the  rage  of  crocodile, 
how  sweet  the  Siren's  tone. 
I  would  sing  of  the  fiery  dragon's 

throat, 
And  how  the  griffin  flietli  ; 
And  how  the  salamander's  coat 
Unto  the  flame  reply eih  ; 

How  the  Chimaera's  body  parts, 
and  how  the  snake  is  grown. 

I  would  also    sing  how  on  its 

eggs  the  ostrich  broods  ; 
And  how  the  phoenix  is  renewed, 

burned  up  with  spicy  woods; 
And    also  where   the   hero  lies 

asleep, 
Who  slew  so  many  in  the  magic 

keep. 


48  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

Ein  wunder  wont  dem  hove  bi  'Mid   wondrous   custonis,    thus, 

mit  wunderliclien  siten  :  the  wondrous  beast  at  court 

mit  pfawen  schriten.  Struts  like  a  peacock,  for  their 

sport, 

unt  mit  menschen  triten  With  human  feet  and  height, 

kan  ez  lagen,  losen,  biten  ;  Must  lie  and  beg  and  bite, 

ez  hat  mit  siner  zungen  wafen  And  many  a  lord  must  wound, 

maneges  herren  muot  ver-  with  tongue  that  knows  to 

sniten  :  smite  : 

dem  kan  ich  gesingen  niht,  nun  For  such  I  cannot  sing — 'twould 

rede   ist    an    ime  gar  ver-  be  a  mock  delight  ! 

lorn. 

Tlie  scornful  air  of  the  closing  words  suggests  to  us 
that  the  poem  is  satirical,  the  subjects  being  those 
demanded  by  the  taste  of  the  courts,  not  those  which 
the  poet  would  prefer  to  sing.  The  Marner  was  an- 
other bold,  independent  character  who  scourged  the 
vices  and  follies  of  his  day ;  but  he  lived  beyond  the 
protection  of  the  Hohenstaufens,  and,  after  an  old  age 
of  poverty  and  ]3ei'secution,  was  basely  murdered. 

Among  the  other  minstrels  of  note  were  Burkhardt 
von  Hohenfels  and  Ulric  von  Winterstetten,  whose  songs 
are  noted  for  illustrations  drawn  from  the  knightly 
pastime  of  the  chase ;  the  two  Eeinmars,  Keinmar  the 
Old  and  Keinmar  von  Zweter,  agreeable  singers,  but 
without  original  character  ;  Master  Johannes  Hadlaub, 
who  has  left  behind  him  some  very  sweet  pastoral  and 
harvest  songs ;  the  monk  Wernher ;  Conrad  of  Wiirz- 
burg,  and  Heinrich  von  Meissen,  who  became  famous 
under  the  name  of  Frauenlob.  In  addition  to  these, 
there  were  many  who  were  known  by  epithets,  either 


THE  MINNESINGERS,  49 

assumed  or  bestowed  upon  them  by  the  people — such 
as  the  Chancellor,  the  Undaunted  and  the  School- 
master of  Esslingen.  In  sifting  their  productions,  we  do 
not  often  find  more  than  a  few  grains  of  genuine,  vital 
poetry  in  a  bushel  of  wordy  chaff;  but  they  all  have 
a  real  value,  from  their  constant  references  to  the  man- 
ners, morals  and  customs  of  the  age.  I  will  quote  a 
few  lines  from  Conrad  of  Wiirzburg,  written  about  forty 
years  after  Walther  von  der  Vogelweide,  to  show  what 
progress  had  been  made  in  developing  the  rhythmical 
capacity  of  the  language  : 

Jar  lane  wil  diu  linde  Tear-long  will  tlie  linden 

vom  winde  The  wind  in 

sicli  velwen,  Go  waving, 

Din  sicli  vor  dem  walde  While  a  tempest  sorest 

ze  balde  The  forest 

kan  selwen  ;  Is  braving  ; 

Truren  uf  der  heide  To  wail  the  moorland  through, 

mit  leide  One's  sorrow 

man  iiebet ;  Is  doubled  ; 

sus  hat  mir  diu  minne  Sweetly  love's  pretenses 

die  sinne  My  senses 

betrliebet.  Have  troubled. 

It  is  not  often  that  Goethe,  or  Kiickert,  or  Uhland 
employs  a  difficult  metre  with  such  apparent  lightness 
and  ease.  But  in  Conrad's  lines  the  sound  is  more 
than  the  sense.  Toward  the  close  of  the  thirteenth 
century,  a  great  elaboration  and  refinement  of  form 
takes  the  place  of  fancy  and  sentiment,  and  from  this 
sign  we  anticipate  the  coming  decay  of  literature. 
3 


50  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

Even  Ulric  von  Winterstetten,  to  whom  we  must  grant 
some  amount  of  native  talent,  took  the  pains  to  write 
verses  in  lines  of  a  single  syllable,  such  as  this : 

Wol  uf ,  ir  kint, 
sint 

YPO, 

so 

muoz 

buoz 

sorgen  sin  ! 

Truren,  var  hin  I 

Sin, 

mnot 

tuot 

heil 

werden  schin. 

It  is  impossible  to  translate  this ;  but  an  imitation 
will  answer  just  as  well : 

At  night,  "  Boys  ?  " 

In  fright,  "  No,— 
Says  the  wife  :  Guess  I  " 

*'  My  life,  "  Oh, 
Hear,  Yes ! 

Near,  That's 

Noise  ! "  Cats  !  " 

One  more  quotation  from  Conrad  of  Wiirzburg  will 
be  enough  to  make  clear  the  degeneracy  into  which 
the  old  German  minstrelsy  fell.  This  is  a  stanza  from 
his '-^ Winter-Song": 

Schoene  doene  klungen 
jungen  liuteu,  triuten 
inne  mlnue  merte; 
sunder  wunder  baere 


THE  MINNESmOERS.  51 

swaere  wilden  bilden 

heide,  weide  rerte, 

do  vr6  sazen  die 

der  ger  lazen  spil  wil  hie. 

Instead  of  a  translation,  I  shall  quote  a  few  lines 
from  Thomas  Hood's  comical  proposition  to  write 
blank  verse  in  rhyme,  which  is  very  much  like  it: 

"  Evening  has  come,  and  from  the  dark  park,  hark. 
The  signal  of  the  setting  sun — one  gun  ! 
And  six  is  sounding  from  the  chime,  prime  time 
To  go  and  see  the  Drury-Lane  Dane  slain — 
Or  hear  Othello's  jealous  doubt  spout  out, 
Or  Macbeth  raving  at  that  shade-made  blade. 
Denying  to  his  frantic  clutch  much  touch  ! " 

I  give  these  grotesque  specimens,  because  there  is  a 
poetical  moral  to  be  drawn  from  them.  I  hardly  need 
to  point  it  out.  A  poem  may  have  perfect  form,  as  a 
woman  may  have  perfect  physical  beauty ;  but  the  per- 
fect poem  requires  feeling  and  thought,  as  the  perfect 
woman  must  have  goodness  and  intelligence.  Form, 
alone,  gives  us  a  waxen  doll,  heartless  and  brainless. 
This  characteristic  is  not  peculiar  to  tlie  age  of  the 
Minnesingers :  there  are  volumes  of  poetry,  published 
every  year,  in  which  we  find  it  very  clearly  manifested. 

The  minstrelsy  of  that  age,  like  all  popular  forms  of 
literature,  presents  two  different  aspects.  We  may  say, 
indeed,  that  every  era  of  literature  has  three  classes  of 
writers — first,  the  Masters,  who  originate  new  forms  of 
expression,  and,  by  the  poAver  of  their  genius,  force  the 
race  to  accept  them;  second,  tin  honest  secondary  in- 


52  GERMAN  LITERATURE, 

telligences,  who  imitate  and  illustrate  and  popularize, 
clear-siglited  to  follow  tliougli  incapable  of  leading ; 
and  lastly,  that  class  of  vain  and  shalloAv  minds  avIio,  as 
Tennyson  says,  turn  the  new  flower  into  a  weed, — who 
unconsciously  parody  the  very  spirit  which  they  aspire 
to  possess.  Yet  their  grotesque  affectation  may  deceive 
a  portion  of  the  public,  and  they  may  die  in  the  full 
conviction  of  literary  immortality.  Among  the  Minne- 
singers, I  should  only  admit  Walther  von  der  Yogel- 
weide  to  the  rank  of  a  master.  In  the  second  class  I 
should  place  the  Marner,  Eeinmar  von  Zweter,  Master 
Hadlaub  and  Burkhardt  von  Hohenfels ;  while  no  bet- 
ter representative  of  the  extravagant  burlesque  of  imi- 
tation would  be  desired  than  Ulric  von  Lichtenstein. 
He  was  an  Austrian,  of  the  same  race  from  which  the 
present  Princes  of  Lichtenstein  are  descended,  and  ap- 
pears to  have  begun  his  career  as  a  knight  and  minstrel 
about  the  year  1223.  If  Cervantes  had  known  anything 
of  the  German  Minnesingers,  we  might  charge  him  with 
borrowing  parts  of  his  Don  Quixote  from  Ulric  von 
Lichtenstein's  history.  The  latter  deliberately  chose 
his  Dulcinea,  and  for  years  devoted  himself  to  singing 
her  praises,  although  she  only  returned  him  scorn  and 
ridicule.  He  relates  that  she  would  not  at  first  look  at 
him  on  account  of  his  having  three  lips.  He  thereupon 
went  to  Gratz  and  employed  a  surgeon  to  cut  off  one  of 
them.  It  was  probably  a  hare-lip,  the  upper  one  count- 
ing for  two.     Then,  at  a  tourney  in  Brixen,  one  of  his 


THE  MINNESINGERS.  53 

fingers  was  wounded,  and  lie  sent  lier  word  that  he  had 
lost  it  for  her  sake.  The  lady  discovered  soon  after- 
ward that  the  wound  was  healed,  and  she  so  ridiculed 
him  that  he  had  the  finger  actually  cut  off  and  sent  to 
her  in  a  box  lined  with  green  velvet.  AfterAvard,  he 
dressed  himself  as  a  woman,  braided  his  hair  with 
pearls,  called  himself  "Dame  Venus,"  and  traveled 
through  Germany  and  Italy,  challenging  the  knights  to 
fight  with  him  (or  her),  in  honor  of  the  scornful  lady. 
He  traveled  in  state,  with  banners,  marshals,  heralds, 
musicians,  and  a  retinue  of  men  and  women,  and  it  is 
gravely  related  that,  during  the  years  of  this  singular 
and  most  expensive  pilgrimage,  he  fought  no  less  than 
five  hundred  and  seventy-eight  times.  Yet,  when  it  was 
over,  and  he  called  upon  the  lady  for  whose  sake  he  had 
dared  so  much,  she  had  him  thrown  out  of  the  window 
of  her  castle  !  She  assured  him  repeatedly  that  she  not 
only  did  not  love  but  actually  hated  him,  and  it  is  not 
probable  that  there  was  the  least  love  on  his  side.  She 
was  a  married  lady,  and  he  had  his  own  wife  and  chil- 
dren in  his  castle  of  Lichtenstein ;  yet  for  thirty-three 
years  he  kept  up  the  absurd  farce,  writing  poems,  sing- 
ing and  fighting,  followed  by  crowds  of  silly  knights 
who  admired  his  constancy  and  bravery,  and  enjoying 
an  immense  amount  of  popularity.  The  colossal  affec- 
tation of  his  career  seems  to  us  little  short  of  idiocy ; 
but  every  age  has  the  same  phenomena,  and  it  would 
not  be  difficult  to  find  names  now,  both  in  Europe  and 


54  GERMAN  LITEBATURE. 

America,  wliicli  have  become  notorious  from  as  absurd 
reasons  as  that  of  Ulric  Yon  Liclitenstein  in  his  day.  I 
will  quote  nothing  from  his  long-winded  work,  called 
"Fraiiendiensf/'  Woman's  Service,  because  I  find  it  a 
prosaic,  tiresome  performance,  of  little  more  value  in 
German  literature,  except  as  a  curious  picture  of  the 
times,  than  are  the  novels  of  Sylvanus  Cobb  in  ours. 

Heinrich  von  Meissen,  or  Frauenlob,  has  also  a  more 
conspicuous  place  than  he  deserves.  It  was  his  good 
luck  that  he  lived  at  the  close  of  the  23eriod  when  min- 
strels had  become  scarce,  and  the  glory  of  the  better 
singers  threw  a  reflected  light  on  his  own  performances. 
He  is  said  to  have  established  the  first  school  of  min- 
strelsy in  Mainz,  in  the  early  part  of  the  fourteenth 
century.  When  he  died,  women  bore  his  body,  with 
weeping  and  lamentations,  to  his  tomb  in  the  cathedral, 
and,  as  an  old  chronicler  says,  "  poured  so  much  wine 
upon  the  tombstone,  that  the  whole  church  was  flooded 
with  it."  In  the  schools  afterward  established,  where 
versification  was  taught  as  we  teach  grammar  or  arith- 
metic, he  is  credited  as  the  inventor  of  thirty-five  meas- 
ures. About  five  hundred  of  his  strophes  have  survived, 
— quite  enough  to  enable  us  to  judge  of  his  quality  as 
an  author.  He  has  given  us  his  own  opinion  of  his 
merits  in  one  of  his  poems.  Speaking  of  Eeinmar,  Wol- 
fram von  Eschenbach  and  Walther  von  der  Yogelweide, 
he  says:  "They  sang  of  the  froth  and  neglected  the 
substance,  but  I  dip  from  the  very  bottom  of  the  ves- 


THE  MINNESINGERS.  55 

sel,  and  the  shrine  of  mj  song  should  be  splendidly 
crowned.  I  am  the  master  of  all  those  who  have  sung 
heretofore,  or  who  sing  now.  I  wear  the  yoke  of  pro- 
foundest  thought,  and  my  words  and  harmonies  never 
wander  from  the  track  of  the  true  sense."  In  spite  of 
these  lofty  claims,  the  most  of  his  pOems  are  so  obscure, 
artificial  and  involved,  that  they  cannot  now  be  read  with 
any  satisfaction.  Yet,  when  he  chooses  to  be  simple  and 
natural,  singing  some  theme  which  appeals  to  the  com- 
mon sentiment  of  man,  he  has  still  the  power  to  give  us 
pleasure.  One  of  his  poems,  entitled  "  Honor  Women ! " 
commences : 

O  reiniu  wip,  ufhaltunge   aller      0  woman,  pure,    all  worlds  in 
welde  thee  preserving 

gen  Gote  unt  gen  der  muoter  sin,       For  God   and   for   His    Mother 

divine, 
als  hie  mit  sange  ich  melde,  My  song  proclaims,   from  thee 

unswerving, 
si  sint  der  hohsten  saelden  schrin  :       Of   highest   souls  art    thou  the 

shrine : 
kein  meister  mac  ir  hohez  lop  vol-       No  master  can  exhaust  thy  lofty 
denken.  praises. 

The  phrase  nflmltunge  aller  welde  suggests  to  us  at  once 
the  exclamation  of  Faust,  "  Inbegriff  von  alien  Himmeln." 
Frauenlob  stands  at  the  close,  as  Diethmar  von  Aist  at 
the  beginning  of  this  bright  period  of  one  hundred  and 
fifty  years,  during  which  the  seeds  of  all  modern  lyric 
poetry  were  planted  in  Provence  and  Germany. 

The  most  famous  event  in  the  literary  history  of  the 
Middle  Ages — the  Sange rkrieUj  or  War  of  the  Minstrels, 


56  GERMAX  LITERATURE. 

in  the  Wartburg  Castle,  near  Eisenach, — is  such  a  sin- 
gular mixture  of  possible  fact  and  evident  fiction,  that  we 
shall  probably  never  ascertain  the  true  story.  German 
scholars  seem  to  be  agreed  that  there  was  a  meeting  of 
Minnesingers,  a  tournament  of  song,  at  the  Wartburg, 
between  the  years  1204  and  1208  ;  but  they  cannot  satis- 
factorily explain  in  what  manner  the  romantic  legend 
grew,  so  many  features  of  which  were  long  accepted  as 
undoubted  history.  The  old  chroniclers  relate  that  the 
combat  took  place  at  the  court  of  Hermann,  Landgraf 
or  Count  of  Thuringia,  and  his  wife,  the  Countess 
Sophia.  There  were  present  Wolfram  von  Eschenbach, 
Walther  von  der  Yogelweide,  Heinrich  von  Ofterdingen, 
Eeinmar  von  Zweter,  Biterolf  and  the  Virtuous  Scribe. 
The  penalty  of  failure  was  death  by  the  executioner's 
hand,  and  this  fate  fell  upon  Henry  of  Ofterdingen,  who 
implored  the  mediation  of  the  Countess  SojDhia,  claim- 
ing that  he  was  unfairly  judged,  and  asking  time  to  bring 
his  master,  the  minstrel  Klingsor,  from  Hungary,  to  aid 
him.  The  prayer  was  granted  :  Henry  went  to  Hun- 
gary, reappeared  wdth  Klingsor  in  a  year  and  a  day, 
and  the  latter  succeeded,  with  the  devil's  assistance,  in 
rivaling,  though  not  overcoming.  Wolfram  von  Eschen- 
bach. The  result  was,  however,  that  Henry  of  Ofter- 
dingen's  life  was  saved. 

The  few  facts  are,  that  the  Landgraf  Hermann  of  Thu- 
ringia was  a  patron  of  literature  ;  that  both  Wolfram  von 
Eschenbach  and  Walther  von  der  Vogelweide  were  his 


TEE  MINNESINGERS.  57 

guests  in  the  Wartburg,  and  that  the  courtly  minstrels 
who  chanted  their  own  songs  sometimes  met  in  rivalry. 
But  Eeinmar  von  Zweter  belongs  to  a  later  generation, 
the  Hungarian  Klingsor  is  certainly  a  fictitious  charac- 
ter, and  there  is  no  satisfactory  evidence  of  a  Heinrich 
von  Ofterdingen,  if  the  Minnesinger  who  is  simply 
named  Heinrich  be  not  the  same.  The  poetic  frag- 
ment, purporting  to  be  the  strife  between  Klingsor  and 
Wolfram  von  Eschenbach,  betrays  the  speech  of  the  end 
of  the  thirteenth  century,  and  some  conjecture  that  it 
was  written  by  Frauenlob. 

Not  many  years  ago,  the  restoration  of  the  Wartburg, 
which  afterward  became  the  scene  of  the  most  memora- 
ble year  of  Luther's  life,  was  undertaken  by  the  Grand- 
Duke  of  Saxe-Weimar,  and  it  was  found  that  many  win- 
dows and  arched  galleries  in  the  most  beautiful  Byzan- 
tine style,  frescoes  and  other  forms  of  ornament,  dating 
from  the  time  of  the  Landgraf  Hermann,  had  been  filled 
up,  plastered  over  and  hidden  by  later  masonry.  The 
ancient  halls  have  now  resumed  their  original  char- 
acter, and  the  walls  within  which  the  minstrels  sang, 
the  raised  dais  for  the  ruling  prince  and  his  wife,  and 
the  deep  mullioned  windows  through  which  they  looked 
on  the  wooded  mountain  ranges  around,  stand  at  pres- 
ent as  they  then  stood.  While  there,  knowing  that  at 
least  two  renowned  Minnesingers  had  certainly  sung 
within  that  liall,  I  found  it  easy  to  believe  the  pic- 
turesque legend. 
3* 


58  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

The  story  of  Tannhanser  belongs  to  the  same  neigh- 
borhood, and  some  traditions  connect  him  with  the  war 
of  the  minstrels,  although  he  was  contemporary  with 
Hermann's  son,  Lndwig,  and  with  the  latter's  wife.  Si 
Elizabeth  of  Hungary.  The  Horselberg,  a  barren  ridge 
which  rises  over  an  intervening  valley,  northeast  of  the 
Wartburg,  is  believed  to  be  the  mountain  of  Yenus,  in 
the  interior  of  which  Tannhanser  found  the  heathen 
goddess  and  her  court. 

In  order  to  appreciate  the  legend  of  Tannhiiuser,  it 
must  be  remembered  that  the  ancient  gods  were  not 
immediately  forgotten  after  the.  triumph  of  Christianity. 
The  common  peoj)le  gradually  came  to  look  upon  them 
as  evil  demons,  who  still  existed,  and  the  one  to  be 
mos.  dreaded  was  Dame  Yenus.  She  was  supposed  to 
live  somewhere,  with  her  Nymphs  and  Graces,  in  a 
wonderful  subterranean  garden.  The  knight  Tann- 
hiiuser,  in  the  legend,  finds  the  entrance  to  this  garden, 
descends  and  lives  there  a  year  in  the  midst  of  pagan 
delights.  He  grows  weary  at  last,  comes  back  to  the 
world,  recognizes  his  sin,  and  wanders  as  a  penitent 
pilgrim  to  Rome.  There  he  confesses  everything  to  the 
Pope,  and  begs  for  pardon  :  but  the  Pope,  holding  a 
staff  in  his  hand,  answers  :  "  Sooner  shall  this  dry  stick 
burst  into  blossoms,  than  pardon  come  to  a  sin  like 
thine  !  "  Tannhanser  wanders  back  to  Germany  in  de- 
spair ;  but  three  days  after  his  departure  the  Pope's 
staff  bursts  into  blossom.      A  messenger  is   instantly 


TEE  MINNESmGERS. 


59 


dispatched  with  the  news  of  the  miracle  and  the  par- 
don. It  is  too  late  :  Tannhiinser  has  already  gone  down 
again  to  the  garden  of  Dame  Venus,  and  never  returns. 
Thus  the  name  of  the  real  Tannhauser  is  surrounded 
by  a  romantic  interest,  at  once  tragic  and  tender,  which 
is  justified  by  nothing  in  his  life  or  his  rather  common- 
place poems.  He  w^as  an  Austrian,  a  crusader,  and 
died  about  the  year  1270.  With  all  the  magic  which 
later  poets,  and  last  of  all  a  modern  composer,  have 
thrown  backward  upon  his  name,  I  find  it  impossible 
to  feel  any  interest  in  his  poetry.  The  concluding  lines 
of  his  "Minstrel's  Lament"  will  give  a  sufficient  idea 
of  his  style  : 


Min    hus,  daz    stat    gar    ane 
dacli.swie  ich  dar  zuo  gebare, 
min  stnbe  stelit  gar  ane  tlir,  daz 
ist  mir  worden  swaere, 

Min  kelre  ist  in  gevallen,  min 
ktiche  ist  mir  verbrunnen, 

min  stadel  stat  gar  ane  bant,  des 
bous  ist  mir  zerrunnen  ; 

mir  ist  gebacben,  nocb  gemaln, 
gebrtiwen  ist  mir  selten  ; 

mir  ist  diu  wat  ze  dimnegar,  des 
mag  ich  wol  entgelten  : 

mich  darf  durch  geraete  nieman 
niden,  nocb  beschelten. 


My  bouse,  it   stands  without  a 

roof,  however  I  repair  it  ; 
My  chamber  stands  without  a 

door,    'tis    ha'-d   for  me  to 

bear  it ; 
My  cellar-vaults  have  tumbled 

in,   my    kitchen    has    been 

burned  up, 
My  barn  it  stands  without  a  lock, 

no  hay  could  there  be  turned 

up: 
They  never  grind  nor  bake  for 

me,  they  brew  for  me  but 

rarely. 
My  coat  is  worn  so  very  thin  I 

am  treating  it  unfairly  ; 
None  has  a  right  to  envy  me, 

still     less     to     scold     m© 

squarely. 


There  is  not  much  of  the  transcendental  worshiper 


60  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

of  the  antique  goddess  in  these  lines  ;  but,  fortunately, 
when  we  come  to  substitute  History  for  Komance,  if  we 
find  many  sliadowy  beauties  shrink  away  to  a  basis  of 
rather  coarse  fact,  we  are  compensated  by  the  discovery 
of  unsuspected  grace  and  nobility  and  gentle  manhood. 
It  is  a  bright,  animated,  eventful  age  which  we  find  re- 
flected in  the  literature  of  the  Minnesingers ;  not  trivial, 
for  the  stern  premonition  of  coming  struggle  is  felt ; 
frank,  artless,  and  natural,  but  almost  never  coarse; 
original,  because  reaped  on  fresh  fields,  by  fresh  hands ; 
and  with  a  direct  impress  of  Nature,  which  we  find  for 
the  first  time  in  any  literature.  We  can  only  express  it 
properly  by  its  German  word  Gemiith^  which,  in  our 
language,  includes  both  feeling  and  sentiment.  A  hun- 
dred years  later,  the  kindred  blood  sent  the  same 
warmth  to  the  heart  and  brain  of  Chaucer,  and  an  inde- 
pendent English  literature  began  to  grow,  not  by  the 
same  stages,  but  by  related  laws  of  development.  No 
one  can  study  the  two  periods,  without  feeling  how  near 
the  natures  of  the  races  still  were  to  each  other. 


m 

THE  MEDIEVAL  EPICS. 

I  HAVE  already  said  that  tlie  age  of  tlie  Minnesingers 
was  especially  an  age  of  epic  poetry,  and  that  many  of 
its  authors  were  renowned  in  both  qualities.  It  is  pos- 
sible that  the  brief  lyrics  and  songs  of  love  and  of  the 
charms  of  nature,  performed  as  important  a  service  in 
popularizing  literature  and  furthering  the  higher  educa- 
tion of  the  whole  people,  as  the  somewhat  ponderous 
epics  of  the  time  ;  but  the  broad  and  massive  character 
of  epic  poetry,  the  deeper  elements  with  which  it  deals, 
give  it  an  intrinsic  dignity  and  authority  which  cannot 
belong  to  the  short  flights  of  lyric  song.  The  latter 
may  furnish  the  ornament  of  the  temple,  but  the  former 
contributes  the  blocks  and  the  pillars  which  give  it 
space  and  permanence. 

In  examining  the  German  epics  of  the  Middle  Ages, 
and  tracing  the  sources  of  their  material,  as  well  as  the 
tastes  or  fashions  of  thought  which  have  had  an  influ- 
ence in  determining  their  character,  we  soon  discover 
the  presence  of  two  very  clearly  separated  elements. 
One  has  a  racy  flavor  of  the  native  soil,  the  other  be- 
trays the  presence  of  foreign  ingredients.  One  seems 
to  have  grown  through  the  richer  development  of  that 

61 


62  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

autoclitlionous  poetic  genius  wliich  produced  the  ''Htlde- 
hrandslied"  itself  a  descendant  of  older  and  wholly  lost 
lays  of  the  ancient  Teutonic  gods  and  heroes  ;  the  other, 
starting  from  the  Latin  ej^ic,  "  Walther  of  Aquitaine,"  in 
the  tenth  century,  and  reyived  by  the  German  ^'Uneid,'' 
of  Heinrich  von  Yeldeck,  in  the  twelfth,  assimilated  the 
romantic  material  of  Wales,  Cornwall  and  Brittany, 
became  quickened  with  a  different  soul  and  embodied 
itself  in  different  forms.  In  short,  as  the  sim^^lest  dis- 
tinction between  the  two,  I  should  call  the  first  the 
epic  poetry  of  the  People,  and  the  second  the  epic  poe- 
try of  the  Courts.  One  is  represented  by  the  ^'Nihelun- 
genliedy'  with  its  continuations,  and  ^^Gudrun;  "  the  other 
by  the  epics  of  ''Tristan^'  "Parzwcd;'  "Erel"  ''Iicein;' 
^^Titurel "  and  the  shorter  heroic  ballads. 

I  am  obliged  to  omit  a  numerous  class  of  works  which 
appeared  during  the  eleventh,  twelfth  and  thirteenth 
centuries,  many  of  which  have  been  preserved,  for  the 
reason  that  they  are  only  embodiments  of  the  legends 
of  the  Church,  the  lives  of  the  saints,  or  the  exploits  of 
Greek  and  Roman  heroes,  in  a  poetical  form — rhymed 
narratives  of  little  literary  value,  although  they  were 
no  doubt  important  agents  in  the  education  of  the  race. 
In  days  when  there  were  neither  newspapers,  political 
meetings,  elections,  societies  of  Eeform  or  cheap  litera- 
ture, men  might  very  well  sit  down  to  the  perusal  of  an 
epic  of  seventy-five  or  one  hundred  thousand  lines  ;  but 
when  I  select  the  five  or  six,  which  really  deserve  notice 


THE  MEDIAEVAL   EPICS.  63 

as  illustrations  of  tlie  narrative  genius  of  that  age,  and 
find  that  they  will  average  nearly  twenty  thousand  lines 
apiece,  I  find  my  task  sufficient,  and  must  not  go  be- 
yond it. 

The  ''Nihdungeniied''  and  "Gudrim''  must  be  treated 
separately.  They  floated  along,  under  the  favoring  cur- 
rent which  bore  the  courtly  epics,  almost  unnoticed,  and 
working  upon  the  race  by  very  slow  and  subtle  agen- 
cies. Their  influence  on  the  German  authors  of  our 
day  has  been  much  greater  than  it  appears  to  have 
been  upon  the  minstrels  of  the  Middle  Ages.  But  the 
epics  of  Gottfried  von  Strasburg,  Wolfram  von  Eschen- 
bach,  Hartmann  von  Aue  and  the  Priest  Conrad,  had  an 
immediate  effect  upon  the  language  and  literary  tastes 
of  the  educated  classes  throughout  Germany.  They 
have  a  monumental  character  in  the  literary  history  of 
the  race  ;  they  are  part  of  the  expression  of  a  great  and 
wonderful  period,  not  dark,  as  it  has  been  foolishly 
called,  but  full  of  scattered  lights,  uncertain  as  morn- 
ing, restless  as  early  spring,  and,  like  both,  bringing 
life  unto  men. 

Like  the  Elizabethan  dramatists,  all  the  famous  epic 
poets  and  Minnesinoers  were  contemporaries ;  the  life 
of  Wolfram  von  Eschenbach,  the  greatest  of  the  former, 
from  about  1150  to  about  1230,  covers  the  epic  and 
the  best  of  the  lyric  period.  The  Latin  narrative 
poetry  of  the  tenth  and  eleventh  centuries,  and  the 
versified  religious   legends,  undoubtedly  prepared   the 


64  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

way  for  the  greater  works  which  followed  ;  but  the  first 
fresh  impulse  toward  the  creation  of  genuine  heroic 
epics  was  given,  between  1170  and  1180,  by  the  nearly 
simultaneous  production  of  three  narrative  poems  of 
great  length, — the  "JRolartdsUed''  of  Priest  Conrad,  the 
^^Alexaiidei'slied  "  of  Priest  Lamprecht,  and  the  ^^Eneid''  of 
Heinrich  von  Veldeck.  The  first  of  these  is  a  transla- 
tion of  the  earlier  French  ^^ Chanson  de  Roland;''  the  sec- 
ond is  a  rhymed  history  of  Alexander  the  Great,  with 
romantic  amplifications ;  and  the  third  is  a  very  free 
translation,  in  the  romantic  manner,  from  Yirgil.  The 
popularity  of  these  works  may  have  been  one  cause 
which  led  the  greater  poets  to  exercise  their  genius  in 
the  same  field,  since  they  too  commenced  their  literary 
career  as  Minnesingers. 

The  subject  of  the  ''Rolandslied'''  belongs  to  the  litera- 
ture of  France.  I  need  only  say  that  Geoffrey  of  Mon- 
mouth, whose  chronicles  of  Arthur  and  his  Knights  of 
the  Eound  Table  were  professedly  translations  of  the 
Welsh  legends,  preceded  the  German  epics  by  fifty 
or  sixty  years,  so  that  their  material  was  certainly 
drawn  from  him  and  from  the  French  versions  of  the 
same  legends.  History  gives  us  little  knowledge  of 
either  ivoland  or  of  Arthur  :  we  cannot  be  sure  of  much 
more  than  the  simple  fact  that  there  were  such  per- 
sons ;  but  the  marvelous  legendary  growths  which  col- 
lect around  certain  names,  have  an  astonishing  vitality  : 
like  the  air-plants  of   Brazil,  their  gorgeous  blossoms 


THE  MEDIAEVAL  EPICS.  65 

and  exquisite  fragrance  seem  to  spring  from  nothing. 
Tlie  ''Chanson  de  Roland''  is  no  longer  read,  except  by 
scholars,  but  the  famous  paladin  still  lives  and  wields 
his  sword  Durindarte,  and  blows  his  tremendous  horn 
at  Eonyeval,  in  Ariosto's  ''Orlando  "  and  in  the  exquisite 
ballads  of  Uhland.  During  the  Middle  Ages,  the  different 
sagenkreise,  or  legendary  circles,  sometimes  became  curi- 
ously mixed,  not  only  with  each  other,  but  with  certain 
striking  episodes  of  classic  history.  Thus  the  feat  of 
Xerxes  at  the  Hellespont  was  transferred  to  Charle- 
magne, who,  as  early  as  the  tenth  century,  was  believed 
by  the  people  to  have  built  a  bridge  across  the  sea  in 
order  to  visit  Palestine.  Then  Charlemagne's  pilgrim- 
age was  transferred  to  Arthur,  who  was  said  to  have 
made  a  journey  to  Jerusalem  at  the  invitation  of  the 
Sultan, — although  he  lived  long  before  there  were  any 
sultans  !  As  the  legend  passed  from  age  to  age,  each 
version  took  the  entire  stamp  and  character  of  the 
day — precisely  as  Tennyson's  Arthur  and  Geraint  and 
Elaine  and  Guinevere  are  not  Celts  of  the  sixth  century, 
but  ideal  English  men  and  women  of  the  nineteenth. 
I  doubt,  indeed,  whether  any  literary  work  would  be 
generally  acceptable  to  the  people  if  this  were  not  so — 
that  is,  if  the  speech,  customs  and  character  of  former 
ages  were  reproduced  with  historical  accuracy.  But  the 
mirage,  which  the  Komancers  impose  between  far-off, 
insignificant  circumstances  and  our  eyes,  turns  the  for- 
mer into  grand,  illusive  forms.     Arthur,  for  example, 


66  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

seems  to  have  been  tlie  owner  or  feudal  lord  of  the 
island  of  Avalon,  on  the  coast  of  Brittany — the  name 
Avalon  signifying  apple-trees.  After  his  death,  it  was 
said  in  Cornwall  that  he  had  gone  to  Avalon,  and  the 
word  gradually  came  to  signify  some  Armoric  Elysium, 
whence  he  w^ould  return  in  time  and  drive  the  Saxons 
from  Britain.  In  Tennyson's  verse,  the  mysterious  trans- 
formation becomes  complete,  and  we  read  of  Arthur 
carried  away  to 

"  The  island -valley  of  Avilion 
Where  falls  not  hail,  or  rain,  or  any  snow, 
Nor  ever  wind  blows  loudly  ;  but  it  lies 
Deep-meadowed,  happy,  fair  with  orchard  lawns 
And  bowery  hollows  crowned  with  summer  sea." 

So  the  Arthurian  legends  become  larger,  broader,  and 
transformed  in  many  important  features,  in  passing  into 
German  epic  song.  Their  personages  are  advanced 
from  the  sixth  century  to  the  twelfth,  and  their  love, 
sorrow,  jealousy  and  revenge  express  themselves  ac- 
cording to  the  fashion  of  the  later  time.  But,  as  in  the 
old  Flemish  paintings,  we  can  study  the  costume  of  the 
artist's  time  and  home  as  well  in  a  Holy  Family  as  in  a 
tavern  scene,  so  here  the  foreign  theme  is  only  an  il- 
lustration of  the  tastes,  opinions  and  habits  of  the  age. 

The  wonderful  age  of  epic  poetry  in  German}^,  un- 
der the  Hohenstaufen  Emperors,  lasted  about  as  long 
as  the  age  of  English  drama,  under  Elizabeth  and 
James  I. — about  fifty  years.  It  is  difficult  to  describe 
several  epics  satisfactorily,  in  a  single  lecture ;  but  I 


THE  MEDIAEVAL  EPICS.  67 

may  perhaps  be  able  to  enlist  your  interest  by  sbowing 
how  the  same  material  which  we  find  in  them  has  taken 
possession  of  modern  Literature  and  Art.  They  were 
all  inspired  by  the  half-historic,  half-romantic  legends 
which  already  existed.  The  chief  of  these  were  the 
following  : — first — the  oldest  Scandinavian  Eddas,  with 
the  story  of  Sigurd  and  Brynhilda :  second— a  lost 
group  of  Gothic  and  Burgundian  legends,  one  of  which 
we  find  in  the  Lay  of  Hildebrand :  third — the  Celtic 
group  of  King  Arthur  and  the  Knights  of  the  Kound 
Table:  fourth— the  search  for  the  Holy  Grail;  and 
lastly,  a  great  number  of  subordinate  legends,  partly 
growing  out  of  these,  partly  borrowed  from  the  Orient 
during  the  Crusades,  and  partly  original  Now,  it  is 
very  singular  to  notice  how  all  this  material  has  been 
worked  over,  with  little  change  except  that  of  detail,  in 
the  literature  of  our  day.  I  need  only  recall  to  your 
memory  Bulwer's  epic  of  "  King  Arthur  ; "  Longfellow's 
''Golden  Legend;"  Tennyson's  "Idylls  of  the  King;" 
Matthew  Arnold's  "  Tristram  and  Iseult ; "  Swinburne's 
poem  of  "Tristram  and  Iseult;"  Morris's  "Lovers  of 
Gudrun,"  and  "Sigurd  the  Yolsung;"  the  German, 
Jordan's  " Nibelmigenlied,''  and  finally,  Wagner's  operas 
of  "Lohengrin  "  and  the  ''Nihelungeii  Trilogy,''  performed 
at  Bayreuth.  It  will  certainly  help  us  to  estimate  the 
true  value  of  these  works,  by  knowing  the  sources 
from  which  they  sprang.  Moreover,  by  taking  par- 
allel passages  from  the  poems  of  the  German  and  the 


68  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

modern  authors,  we  have  the  best  possible  illustration 
of  the  changes  in  modes  of  poetic  expression  which  have 
taken  place  in  the  lapse  of  six  hundred  and  fifty  years. 

I  shall  adhere  to  the  plan,  which  I  stated  in  begin- 
ning these  lectures,  of  noticing  only  those  works  which 
give  a  distinct,  characteristic  stamp  to  each  literary  pe- 
riod. Therefore,  in  treating  of  the  German  epics  of  the 
twelfth  century,  I  shall  select  the  three  greatest  repre- 
sentatives, and  say  nothing  of  the  crowd  of  inferior 
singers  who  imitated  them. 

It  is  remarkable  that  we  know  so  little  of  the  lives  of 
these  three  principal  epic  poets.  We  can  only  conjec- 
ture, from  some  collateral  evidence,  the  probable  time 
when  they  were  born  and  died.  Gottfried  von  Stras- 
burg  seems  to  have  first  died,  and  Wolfram  von  Eschen- 
bach  to  have  outlived  Hartmann  von  Aue.  I  shall  com- 
mence with  the  last,  as  certainly  the  least  endowed.  It 
is  unknown  whether  he  was  of  Swiss  or  of  Suabian  birth; 
it  is  only  known  that  he  was  noble.  He  was  one  of 
the  crusaders  under  Barbarossa,  devoted  himself  to 
poetry  after  his  return,  and  died  somewhere  between 
1210  and  1220.  He  seems  to  have  enjoyed  a  great  deal  of 
popularity,  and  Gottfried  of  Strasburg,  in  his  ^^  Tristan" 
ranks  him  high  above  Wolfram  von  Eschenbach,  proba- 
bly because  the  latter  was  a  more  dangerous  rival. 

Hartmann  von  Aue  wrote  four  epics — "^reA-,"  "6^re- 
goriiis  vom  Steine''  (Gregory  of  the  Rock),  "Der  arme 
JSeinrich"  (Poor  Henry \  and  "/^rem."     Three  of  these 


THE  MEDIAEVAL  EPICS.  69 

were  based  on  foreign  originals,  from  wliicli  tliey  differ 
only  in  a  few  details  and  in  manner  of  treatment.  One, 
the  "  Poor  Henry,"  appears  to  have  been  derived  from 
a  tradition  in  the  poet's  own  family,  or,  at  least,  in 
his  native  province.  For  the  subject  of  his  '^Erek,'' 
I  refer  you  to  Tennyson's  poem  of  "Enid,"  in  his 
"Idylls  of  the  King."  In  Hartmann's  epic  Enid  is  also 
the  wife,  but  the  husband  is  named  Erek  instead  of 
Geraint.  The  story  is  almost  exactly  the  same,  except 
that  Tennyson  reconciles  Geraint  with  his  wife  imme- 
diately after  the  slaughter  of  Earl  Doorm  in  his  castle, 
while  Hartmann  first  adds  another  adventure.  He 
brings  Erek  to  the  castle  of  Brandigan  (Burgundy?), 
whose  lord  has  overcome  eighty  knights  in  combat,  and 
holds  their  eighty  ladies  imprisoned.  Erek  slays  the 
lord  of  Brandigan,  liberates  the  ladies,  and  then  goes 
with  Enid  to  Arthur's  Court.  It  may  interest  you  to 
compare  corresj^onding  passages  from  the  German  cru- 
sader and  the  modern  English  poet : 

Nu  kam  ez  also  nacli  ir  site,  Now  happened  it  as  was  their 

wont, 
daz  er  umb  einen  mitten  tac  Tliat  lie,  about  the  warm  noon- 

tide 
an  ir  arme  gelac.  Was  sleeping  by  her  side. 

Nu  gezam    des  wol  der  sunnen      The  sun  therein  so  faii-ly  beamed 

schin, 
daz  er  dienest  muoste  sin.  That  he  their  servant  seemed, 

wand  er  den  gelieben  zwein  When  he  the  wedded  pair 

durch  ein  vensterglas  schein  So  through  the  window  there 

unt  het  die  kemenaten  Did  light,  that  in  the  room, 

liehtes  wol  beraten.  There  nothing  was  of  gloom. 


70 


GERMAN  LITERATURE. 


daz  si  sich  mohten  underselien. 

Daz  ir  von  fluochen  was  gesclie- 

lien, 
da  begunde  se  denken  an  : 

vil  galies  rulite  si  liin  dan  ; 

si  wande,  daz  er  sliefe. 

Einen  siuften  nam  si  tiefe 

unde  sach  in  vaste  an  ; 

si  sprach  :  "  We  dir,  vil  armer 

man, 
unt  mir  ellendem  wibe, 
daz  ich  bi  minem  libe 
s6    manegeu    fluocli    veruemen 

sol !  " 
D6  vernam  Erec  die  rede  wol. 
Als  si  der  rede  bet  gedaget, 

Erec   sprach:    "  Fro  we   Enite, 

saget, 
waz  sint  iwer  sorgen, 
die  ir  da  klaget  verborgen  ?  " 
Nu  wolde  sis  gelougent  ban  ; 
Erec  sprach  :  "  Lat  die  rede  stan  ; 

des  nemet  in  ein  zil, 
daz  ich  die  rede  wizzen  wil. 
Ir  miiezet  mir  benamen  sagen, 
waz  ich  inch  da  horte  klagen, 

daz  ir  vor  mir  sns  habt  verswi- 

gen/' 
Si  vorhte,  daz  si  wurde  gezigen 

von  im  ander  dinge 
unt  seite  imz  mit  gedinge  ; 
daz  er  ir  daz  gehieze, 
daz  erz  ane  zorn  lieze. 


And  they  each  other  well  could 

see. 
Then  fell  to  thinking  she. 

That  he,  through  her,  was  exe- 
crate ; 

Thence  was  her  trouble  swift 
and  great ; 

She  thought  he  was  asleep  ; 

Now  sigheth  she  full  deep. 

And  looketh  on  him  steadily. 

She  said  :  "Poor  man,  alas  for 
thee 

And  me,  thy  miserable  wife. 

That  ever  in  my  life 

So  many  curses  should  receive  ! " 

All  this  did  Erek  well  perceive  : 
When  she  that  speech  had  fin- 
ished, 
Tell  me,  Dame  Enid,"  Erek  said, 

^Yhat  then  may  be  your  pain. 
That  you  so  secretly  complain  ?  " 
Now  when  deny  would  she. 
Said  Erek  :    "  Let  your  talking 

be; 
And  be  your  duty  so. 
As  I  your  words  desire  to  know. 
Verily  you  must  say  again 
What  now  I  heard  you  sore  com- 
plain. 
What  you   from  me  have  thus 

concealed." 
She  feared  lest  there  might  be 

revealed 
To  him,  quite  other  thing. 
And  spoke,  he  promising 
To  hear  withouten  wrath. 
What  now  she  spoken  hath. 


THE  MEDIAEVAL  EPICS.  71 

Als  er  vernam  die  maere,  When  he  the  story  heard 

waz  diu  rede  waere,  What  was  her  spoken  word, 

ersprach:  "  Der  rede  ist  gnuoc  "Enough  of  speech!"  then  said 

getan  ! "  te. 

Zehant  hiez  er  si  uf  stan.  He  bade  her  rise,  get  ready, 

daz  si  sich  wol  kleite  And  dress  herself  with  care 

unte  an  leite  In  garments  fair, 

daz  beste  gewalte.  Donning  the  best  array 

daz  si  lender  haete.  That  In  her  presses  lay. 

Sinen  knaben  er  seite,  The  page  he  bade  with  speed 

daz  man  im  sin  ros  bereite  Prepare  his  own  strong  steed, 

und  ir  phiirt  der  fro  wen  Eniten  ;  Dame  Enid's   palfrey  there  be- 
side ; 

er  sprach,  er  wolde  riten  He  said  that  he  would  ride 

uz  kurzwilen  :  For  pastime  far  away  : 

des  begunden  si  do  ilen.  So  forward  hastened  they. 

Tennyson's  "  Enid  "  : 

"  At  last  it  chanced  that  on  a  summer  mom 
(They  sleeping  each  by  other)  the  new  sun 
Beat  thro'  the  Mindless  casement  of  the  room, 
And  heated  the  strong  warrior  in  his  dreams  : 
Who,  moving,  cast  the  coverlet  aside. 
And  bared  the  knotted  column  of  his  throat. 
The  massive  square  of  his  heroic  breast. 
And  arms  on  which  the  standing  muscle  sloped. 
As  slopes  a  wild  brook  o'er  a  little  stone. 
Running  too  vehemently  to  break  upon  it. 
And  Enid  woke  and  sat  beside  the  couch, 
Admiring  him,  and  thought  within  herself. 
Was  ever  man  so  grandly  made  as  he  ? 
Then,  like  a  shadow,  past  the  people's  talk 
And  accusation  of  uxoriousness 
Across  her  mind,  and  bowing  over  him, 
Low  to  her  own  heart,  piteously  she  said : 

"  '  0  noble  breast,  and  all-puissant  arms. 
Am  I  the  cause,  I  the  poor  cause  that  men 
ileproach  you,  saying  all  your  force  is  gone? 


72  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

I  am  the  cause,  because  I  dare  not  speak 

And  tell  him  what  I  think  and  what  they  say. 

And  yet  I  hate  that  he  should  linger  here  ; 

I  cannot  love  my   ord  and  not  his  name. 

Far  liever  had  I  gird  his  harness  on  him, 

And  ride  with  him  to  battle  and  stand  by, 

And  watch  his  mightful  hand  striking  great  blows 

At  caitifEs  and  at  wrongers  of  the  world. 

Far  better  were  I  laid  in  the  dark  earth, 

Not  hearing  any  more  his  noble  voice, 

Not  to  be  folded  more  in  these  dear  arms. 

And  darkened  from  the  high  light  in  his  eyes. 

Than  that  my  lord  thro'  me  should  suffer  shame. 

Am  I  so  bold,  and  could  I  so  stand  by. 

And  see  my  dear  lord  wounded  in  the  strife. 

Or  may  be  pierced  to  death  before  mine  eyes. 

And  yet  not  dare  to  tell  him  what  I  think. 

And  how  men  slur  him,  saying  all  his  force 

Is  melted  into  more  effeminacy? 

O  me,  I  fear  that  I  am  no  true  wife.* 

"Half  inwardly,  half  audibly  she  spoke. 
And  the  strong  passion  in  her  made  her  weep 
True  tears  upon  his  broad  and  naked  breast, 
And  these  awoke  him,  and  by  great  mischance 
He  heard  but  fragments  of  her  later  words. 
And  that  she  feared  she  was  not  a  true  wife. 
And  then  he  thought,  '  In  spite  of  all  my  care. 
For  all  my  pains,  poor  man,  for  all  my  pains. 
She  is  not  faithful  to  me,  and  I  see  her 
Weeping  for  some  gay  knight  in  Arthur's  hall.* 
Then  tho'  he  loved  and  reverenced  her  too  much 
To  dream  she  could  be  guilty  of  foul  act. 
Right  thro'  his  manful  breast  darted  the  pang 
That  makes  a  man,  in  the  sweet  face  of  her 
"Whom  he  loves  most,  lonely  and  miserable. 
At  this  he  hurl'd  his  huge  limbs  out  of  bed. 
And  shook  his  drowsy  squire  awake  and  cried, 
*  My  charger  and  her  palfrey,'  then  to  her, 
'  I  will  ride  forth  into  the  wilderness  ; 


THE  MEDIAEVAL  EPICS.  73 

For  tho'  it  seems  my  spurs  are  yet  to  win, 
I  have  not  fall'n  so  low  as  some  would  wish. 
And  you,  put  on  your  worst  and  meanest  dress 
And  ride  with  me.'     And  Enid  ask'd,  amaz'd, 
'  If  Enid  errs,  let  Enid  learn  her  fault.' 
But  he,  '  I  charge  you,  ask  not,  but  obey.' " 

These  passages  illustrate  not  only  tlie  common  source 
from  which  both  poets  derived  their  material,  but  also 
the  different  manner  of  treatment  between  a  poet  of  the 
twelfth  century  and  one  of  the  nineteenth.  Tennyson 
has  endeavored  to  imitate  the  old  epic  simplicity — 
rather  the  Greek,  it  is  true,  than  the  German  or  Anglo- 
Saxon — but  he  cannot  escape  the  atmosphere  of  our 
day.  As  compared  with  Hartmann  von  Aue,  he  has  less 
of  simple,  direct,  natural  narration,  iand  much  more  both 
of  description  and  of  subjective  stady  of  character. 

I  will  pass  over  "Gregory  of  the  Rock,"  founded  on  an 
obscure  legend  concerning  Pope  Gregory  VII.,  which 
will  not  well  bear  repeating,  and  come  to  the  ^^  Arme 
Heinrich.'"  Here,  again,  the  material  has  been  used  by  a 
living  poet,  and  you  all  are — or  ought  to  be — familiar 
with  it.  The  author  is  Longfellow,  and  the  poem  is  the 
"Golden  Legend."  Instead  of  Heinrich  von  Aue,  Long- 
fellow calls  the  hero  Prince  Henry  of  Hoheneck,  and 
gives  him  Walther  von  der  Vogelweide  as  a  friend.  He 
takes  only  the  thread  of  the  story  from  Hartmann — the 
incurable  disease,  the  self-sacrifice  of  the  maiden,  the 
journey  to  Salerno,  and  the  happy  termination  of  the 
story  in  her  marriage  with  the  prince,  and  has  so  en- 

4: 


74  GEKMAN  LITERATURE. 

ricliecl  and  adorned  it  with  tlie  fairest  suggestions  of  liis 
own  genius  tliat  it  becomes  a  new  creation.  Certainly 
no  more  exquisitely  finished  and  harmonious  poetical 
work  has  been  written  in  this  country  than  the  "  Golden 
Legend." 

Hartmann's  last  ej^ic,  "Iwein,''  is  taken  from  the  tradi- 
tions of  King  Arthur  and  the  Round  Table.  The  name 
Iioein  is  the  Welsh  Evan,  the  Eussian  Ivan,  the  English 
John.  The  poem,  except  toward  its  close,  is  a  repeti- 
tion of  the  adventures  of  the  Knight  Iwein,  as  related  in 
the  Welsh  Mabinogion.  This,  no  less  than  his  other 
epics,  bears  the  stamp  of  elegant  mediocrity.  His  verse 
is  carefully  constructed,  the  separate  episodes  are  often 
well  narrated,  but  the  characters  are  not  consistent  nor 
properly  sustained,  and  the  poem  becomes  wearisome 
to  one  accustomed  to  better  models. 

Nevertheless,  among  the  German  critics  there  are 
very  different  verdicts  pronounced  upon  Hartmann  von 
Aue.  Some  consider  him  an  undoubted  master,  com- 
bining sentiment,  power  and  purity  of  style:  others 
condemn  him  for  a  total  lack  of  high  poetic  instinct. 
Grimm,  curiously  enough,  has  expressed  himself  on 
both  sides  of  the  question  in  different  works.  If  we 
avoid  either  extreme,  yet  place  him  decidedly  below  both 
Gottfried  and  Wolfram,  I  think  we  shall  come  nearer 
fixing  his  true  place.  But  his  importance  in  his  age 
cannot  be  fairly  estimated  by  our  modern  literary  stand- 
ards.    The  very  smoothness  and  polish,  which  become 


TBE  MEDIEVAL  EPICS.  75 

SO  wearisome  to  us  when  they  are  not  penetrated  with 
the  presence  of  a  strong  informing  spirit,  may  have  been 
an  agency  of  culture,  as  well  as  a  charm,  to  his  contem- 
poraries. 

Of  Gottfried  von  Strasburg,  we  only  know  that  he 
was  probably  a  native  of  the  city  for  which  he  is 
named  ;  that  he  was  not  of  noble  family,  but  well  edu- 
cated, and  apparently  in  good  circumstances,  and  that 
he  must  have  died,  still  comparatively  young,  before 
1210.  One  of  the  old  manuscripts  has  a  portrait  which 
represents  him  as  a  young  man  with  long,  curling  locks, 
but  its  authenticity  cannot  be  relied  upon.  He  was 
perhaps  a  personal  friend  of  Hartmann  von  Aue  :  it  is 
not  known  that  he  ever  met  Wolfram  von  Eschenbach. 

Gottfried  also  drew  the  subject  of  his  one  epic,  "  TW-s- 
f«??,"  from  English  and  French  sources.  It  had  even 
been  used  before  him  by  a  German  poet,  Eilhart  von 
Oberg,  who,  some  thirty  years  before  him,  wrote  a  poem 
called  ^^ Tristan''  in  the  Low-German  language.  Like  the 
^'Erel-'''  and  ^^Arme  Heinricli''  of  Hartmann,  you  will  find 
the  substance  of  the  story  in  poems  by  tAvo  living  authors 
—in  Tennyson's  Idyll  of  "The  Last  Tournament,"  and  in 
the  "  Tristram  and  Iseult "  of  Matthew  Arnold.  The  plot, 
in  its  general  outline,  has  a  resemblance  to  the  story  of 
Lancelot  and  Guinevere,  but  it  is  more  tragic,  because 
the  element  of  magic  is  introduced,  and  the  final  sorrow 
is  thus  not  the  consequence  of  voluntary  sin.  It  is,  in 
fact,  one  of  the  most  touching  and  beautiful  of  all  those 


76  GERM  AX  LITERATURE. 

purely  romantic  legends  wliich  were  so  popular  over  all 
Europe  during  the  Middle  Ages.  None  of  tlie  charac- 
ters are  historical :  it  seems  to  have  had  no  original 
connection  with  the  Arthurian  stories,  although  it  was 
afterward  attached  to  them,  and  its  invention  is  ascribed 
to  some  Celtic  minstrel  of  Brittany. 

The  outline  of  the  story  is  so  simple  that  it  may  be 
told  in  a  few  words.  Mark,  the  king  of  Cornwall,  who 
resided  at  the  castle'  of  Tintagil,  so  famous  as  the  resi- 
dence of  Uther,  the  father  of  Arthur,  had  a  nephew, 
Tristan  or  Tristram,  who  was  the  most  gallant  and  ac- 
complished knight  of  his  court.  The  king  of  Ireland, 
having  promised  the  hand  of  his  daughter  Iseult,  Isut, 
or  Isolde,  as  the  name  is  differently  written,  to  King 
Mark,  Tristan  was  sent  to  bring  the  bride  to  Cornwall. 
On  leaving  Ireland,  Iseult' s  mother  gave  her  daughter's 
attendant  lady,  Brangaene  by  name,  a  love-potion  to  be 
secretly  administered  to  her  and  her  royal  bridegroom 
on  the  day  of  their  nuptials,  in  order  to  secure  their 
wedded  bliss.  But  the  magic  elixir  was  administered, 
by  mistake,  to  Tristan  and  Iseult,  during  the  voyage 
from  Ireland  to  Cornwall.  This  fixed  the  destiny  of 
both  during  the  remainder  of  their  lives.  The  spell 
compelled  them  to  love  each  other,  though  separated 
by  holy  vows.  The  truth  was  soon  discovered  at  the 
Court  of  Cornwall,  and  Tristan,  to  avoid  his  uncle's 
wrath,  went  to  Brittany,  where  he  met  another  Iseult — 
she  is  sometimes  called  Iseult  of  Brittany  and  some- 


TEE  MEDIEVAL  EPICS.  77 

times  Iseult  of  the  White  Hands — whom  he  married, 
more  out  of  gratitude  than  love.  But  the  infection  of 
the  magic  potion  was  still  in  his  blood :  he  wandered 
forth,  tormented  by  his  passion,  and  became  the  hero 
of  many  daring  exploits  which  made  his  name  famous 
in  Britain.  At  last,  sick,  worn,  and  wounded  nigh  unto 
death  he  returned  to  Iseult  of  the  White  Hands,  who  is 
represented  as  a  sweet,  forbearing  and  forgiving  woman. 
Her  nursing  was  of  no  avail ;  and  a  messenger  was  sent 
to  bring  Queen  Iseult  of  Cornwall,  who  alone  could  heal 
him.  She  fled  from  King  Mark's  Court,  crossed  to  Brit- 
tany in  a  wild  storm,  and  reached  Tristan's  castle  just 
in  time  to  see  him  die.  Her  heart  broke,  and  she  sank 
dead  beside  his  corpse.  Another  version,  which  I  pre- 
fer not  to  believe — in  fact,  refuse  to  believe — states  that 
the  vessel  which  was  to  bring  Iseult  of  Cornwall  was  to 
hoist  white  sails  on  returning,  if  she  was  on  board  ;  but 
black  sails,  if  it  came  without  her.  Iseult  of  Brittany 
bribed  the  captain  to  hoist  black  sails,  in  either  case. 
When  the  ship  was  seen  afar,  and  the  color  of  the  sails 
was  reported  to  Tristan,  he  died  in  disappointment 
and  despair :  Iseult  of  Cornwall  found  only  his  dead 
body.  King  Mark,  w^ho  had  learned  the  story  of  the 
magic  potion,  had  them  buried  side  by  side.  He  planted 
over  Iseult  a  rose,  and  over  Tristan  a  grape-vine,  which 
twined  themselves  around  each  other  as  they  grew,  and 
could  not  be  separated.  It  is  curious  how  this  last 
particular  has  lived  to  this  day  in  the  Ballad  of  Lord 


78  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

Lovel,  wliicli  is  still  sung  by  the  country  people  of  Eng- 
land : 

' '  And  out  of  lier  breast  tliere  grew  a  red  rose, 
And  out  of  liis  breast  a  brier." 

This  is,  of  course,  only  the  slightest  framework  of  the 
story.  Gottfried  is  a  more  daring  and  original  poet  than 
Hartmann;  in  the  scenes  and  ejDisodes,  from  first  to 
last,  he  allows  his  invention  full  play,  and  so  enriches 
and  extends  the  material  that,  although  his  poem  con- 
tains thirty  books  and  twenty  thousand  lines,  it  was  ter- 
minated by  his  death  when  only  two-thirds  had  been 
written.  Both  the  choice  of  the  subject  and  the  man- 
ner of  treatment  give  evidence  of  true  literary  feeling 
and  skill,  but  not  of  that  grand,  independent  disregard 
of  former  models  or  prevalent  fashions  which  marks 
the  pathfinder.  He  took  the  forms  which  he  found, 
with  all  their  monotony,  their  interminable  diffuseness 
and  tolerance  of  digressions.  They  became  purer  and 
stronger  in  his  hands ;  the  great  mass  constantly 
moves  with  life,  but  it  still  lacks  that  harmony  and  mu- 
tual dependence  of  parts,  that  organic  unity,  which 
every  great  literary  work  must  possess.  There  are 
many  passages  which  may  be  read  with  delight,  but 
the  perusal  of  the  whole  v>^ork  becomes  a  rather  serious 
task. 

^^  Tristan'  commences  with  an  Eingang,  or  Introduction, 
in  which  the  author  explains  his  reasons  for  writing  the 
poem,  and  the  service  which  he  thereby  hoj^es  to  ren- 


THE  .MEDIAEVAL  EPICS. 


79 


der  to  tlie  noble  and  loving  among  men.     In  the  very 
first  stanza  we  recognize  liis  cliaracteristic  style  : 


Gedaelite  man  ir  ze  guote  nilit, 

von  den  der    werlde    guot  ge- 

schilit, 
so  waere  ez  allez  alse  nilit, 

swaz    guotes    in  der  werlt  ge- 
schiht. 


If  we  the  good  sliould  never 
heed, 

That  haps  on  earth,  as  is  de- 
creed, 

Then  were  it  nothing  worth,  in- 
deed. 

That  any  good  should  be  de- 
creed. 


Another  stanza,  quite  as  terse  and  sound,  is : 

Tiur'  unde  wert  ist  mir  der  man,  Dear  and  worthy  is  the  man 

der  guot  and  iibel  betrahten  kan.  Who  good  and  evil  study  can  : 

der  mich  und  iegelichen  man  Who  me  and  every  other  man 

nach    sinem     werde     erkennen  At  his  true  value  measure  can. 
kan. 


The  first  book  describes  the  loves  of  Prince  Eeivalin, 
the  father  of  Tristan,  and  Blanchefloeur,  his  mother,  the 
sister  of  King  Mark.  Their  meeting  in  the  spring- 
time reminds  us  of  the  similar  scene  in  the  story  of 
Lancelot  and  Guinevere. 

There  is  such  a  charming  brightness  and  freshness  in 
the  lines,  that  I  must  quote  the  passages 


diu  senfte  sueze  sumerzit 

diu  haete  ir  sueze  numiiezekeit 

mit  siiezem  flize  an  si  geleit. 

diu  kleinen  waltvogelin, 

diu  des  oren  froude  solen  sin, 


The  soft  and  tender  summer  air 
Disturbed   the  summer    idlesse 

there, 
And  woke  sweet  industry,  and 

fair. 
The    little    wood-birds    singing 

clear. 
It  should  be  such  a  joy  to  hear, 


80 


GERMAN  LITERATURE. 


bluomen,  gras,  loup  unde  Muot 

und  swaz  dem  ougen  sanfte  tuot 

und  edele  lierze  erfrouwen  sol, 

des  was  diu  sumerouwe  vol  : 

man  vant  da,  swaz  man  wolte, 

daz  der  mcie  bringen  solte  : 

den  scliate  bi  der  sunnen, 

die  linden  bi  dem  brnnnen, 
die  senften  linden  ■wdnde, 
die  Markes  ingesinde 
sin  wesen  engegene  maclieten. 
die  liebten  bluomen  lacheten 

uz  dem  betouwetem  grase . 

des    meien    friunt,    der  grliene 

wase, 
der  baete  uz  bluomen  ane  geleit 
so  wunneclicbin  sumerkleit, 
daz  si  den  lieben  gesten 
in  ir  ougen  widerglesten. 
diu  siieze  boumbluot  sacli  den 

man 
so  rehte  suoze  lacliende  an, 
daz   sich  daz   L.ei:ze  uud  al  der 

muot 
wider  an  die  lacliende  bluot 

mit  spilnden  ougen  machete 
uud  ir  allez  wider  lacbete. 
daz  senfte  vogelgedoene, 
das  siieze,  daz  seboene, 
daz  oren  unde  muote 
vil  dicke  kumet  ze  guote. 


Blossoms,  grass,  and  leaves  on 

trees. 
And  wbat  the  eye  may   gently 

please. 
And  joy   to   noble   hearts    may 

yield. 
Of    that  was  the  summer-mea, 

dow  filled. 
All  one   wished    was    gathered 

then 
Of  what  the  May-time  brings  to 

men  : 
Shade,   when    the    sun    would 

sting ; 
Lindens  beside  the  spring ; 
And  soft,  sweet  winds  that  sent 
Where  Mark's  retainers  went, 
A  fresh  delight  to  meet  them  : 
And  the  bright  buds  laughed  to 

greet  them, 
In  the  dewy  grass  that  day  ; 
And  the  green  turf,  the  friend 

of  May, 
Wove  from  its  own  loveliness 
So  delightful  a  summer  dress 
That  in  the  guests'  glad  eyes 
'Twas  mirrored  in  fairer  wise. 
The  bloom  of  trees  looked  down 

on  men 
So  openly,  sweetly  smiling  then. 
That  heart  and  mind  and  senses 

lent 
The  dancing  blood   their  light 

content. 
And  forever  made  reply 
In  the  light  of  the  merry  eye. 
All  notes  the  birds  repeat, — 
So  beautiful,  so  sweet, — 
That  unto  heart  and  ear 
So  goodly  'tis  to  hear. 


THE  MEDIAEVAL  EPICS.  81 

daz  fulte  da  berc  unde  tal.  Rang  there  from  hill  and  dale, 

diu  saelige  nahtegal.  And  the  hUssful  nightingale — 

daz  liebe  siieze  vogelin.  The  dear,  sweet  birdling  she 

daz  iemer  siieze  mueze  sin,  That  ever  sweet  shall  he, 

daz  kallete  uz  der  blilete  From  out  the  blossoms  trolled 

mit  solher  iibermiiete,  So  clear  and  over-bold, 

daz  da  mane  edele  herze  van  That  many  a   noble  heart  that 

heard, 
froud'  unde  hohen  muot  gewan.        Took  joy   and   hope   from    the 

happy  bird. 

I  have  not  space  to  describe  the  wealth  of  pictur- 
esque incidents  with  wliich  Gottfried  has  amplified  the 
story.  Tristan  is  brought  up  as  the  son  of  Eual  in 
Bjittanj,  is  carried  off  by  the  Norwegians,  shipwrecked 
on  the  coast  of  Cornwall,  and  becomes,  as  a  boy,  hunter 
and  minstrel  at  the  Court  of  King  Mark.  Rual  wanders 
over  the  world  to  find  him,  comes  finally  to  Tint;'gil  and 
discloses  his  relationship  to  the  king,  after  which  there 
are  many  adventures  before  Iseult  enters  upon  the 
scene.  The  last  book  describes  Tristan's  wooing  of 
Iseult  with  the  White  Hands  in  Brittany.  He  sings  at 
the  Court  of  the  old  Duke  Jovelin,  her  father,  a  pas- 
sionate song  with  the  refrain,  in  the  French  of  that  day  : 

"  Isot,  ma  drue,  Isot  m'amie, 
en  vus  ma  mort,  en  vus  ma  vie  ! " 

thinking  in  his  heart  only  of  Iseult  of  Ireland,  while 
the  ladies  and  knights  imagine  that  he  is  celebrating 
her  of  the  White  Hands. 

Among  other  quaint  and  curious  episodes,  the  twenty- 
fifth  book  is  taken  up  with  the  account  of  a  little  dog 
4* 


82 


GERMAN  LITERATURE. 


named  Petitcriu,  whicli  a  fairy  in  Avalon  had  presented 
to  Gilan,  tlie  Duke  of  Wales.  The  hair  of  the  dog 
shimmered  in  all  bright  colors,  and  around  its  neck 
there  was  a  bell,  the  sound  of  which  banished  all  sor- 
row from  the  heart  of  him  who  heard  it.  Tristan  wins 
Petitcriu  from  Duke  Gilan,  and  sends  him  to  Iseult, 
whose  sorrow  for  her  absent  lover  is  instantly  soothed 
when  she  hears  the  bell ;  but,  remembering  that  Tristan 
is  wandering  alone  and  unconsoled,  she  takes  the  bell 
from  the  dog's  neck  and  throws  it  into  the  sea. 

I  find  no  better  specimen  of  Gottfried's  narrative  style 
than  the  passage  where  Tristan  and  Iseult  accidentally 
drink  the  love-]Dotion : 


Nu  man  gelante  in  eine  habe  : 
nu  gie  daz  vole  almeiste  abe 

durcli  banekie  uz  an  daz  lant ; 

nu  gienc  oucb  Tristant  ze  bant 

begrtiezen  unde  bescbouwen 
die  liebten  sine  vrouwen. 
Und  als  er  zuozir  nider  gesaz, 
unt  redeten  diz  unde  daz 

von  ir  beider  dingen, 

er  bat  ini  trinken  bringen. 

Nune  was  da  niemen  inne 
an  die  kiineginne, 
wan  kleiniu  juncfrouwelin  ; 
der  einez  spracb  :    "  Sebt,  bie 
stat  win 


Now  tbev  a  barbor  came  unto, 
Wbere    nearly  all   tbe  vessel's 

crew 
Went  fortb  to  land,  on  pastime 

bent ; 
And   Tristan,  also,  straigbtwaj 

went 
To  greet,  witb  bliss  o'erladen, 
Tbe  brigbtness  of  tbe  maiden. 
And  as  be  tbus  beside  ber  sat, 
And  tbey  bad  spoken  of  tbis  and 

tbat, 
Of  tbings  concerning  botb, 
Said  be  :  "To  drink  I  were  not 

loatb." 
Now  was  tbere  no  one  tbere. 
Beside  tbe  Princess  fair, 
But  one  small  waiting-maid  : 
Tbe  wine  is  bere,"  sbe  said. 


THE  MEDIAEVAL  EPICS. 


83 


in  disem  vazzeline." 

Neiu  !  ezii  was  nilit  mit  •wine, 

docli  ez  im  geliche  waere, 

ez  was  din  waernde  swaere, 
diu  endelose  lierzenot, 

von  der  si  beide  lagen  tot. 
Nu  was  ab  ir  daz  unrekant  : 
si  stuont  uf  unt  gie  liin  ze  liant, 

da  daz  tranc  und  daz  glas 
verborgen  unt  bebalten  was. 

Tristande,  ir  meister,  bot  si  daz  ; 

er  bot  Isote  viirbaz  : 

si  tranc  ungerne  und  ilberlanc, 

unt  gap   do   Tristand,  unde    er 

tranc, 
unt  wanten  beide,  ez  waere  wun. 
le  mitten  gienc  oucli  Brangaen 

in, 
unde  erkande  daz  glas, 

unt  sacb  wol,  waz  der  rede  was. 

Si  ersclirac  so  sere  unde  erkani, 
daz  ez  ir  alle  ir  kraft  benam, 
unt  wart  relit  als  ein  tote  var. 

Mit  totem  lierzen  gie  si  dar  : 

si  nam  daz  leide  veige  vaz, 

si  truog  ez  dannen  unt  warf  daz 

in  den  tobenden  wilden  se. 
■  Owe    mir    armen,"    sprach  se, 
"  owe  1 


Witbin  tbis  flagon  fine." 

All,  no  !  It  was  not  wine  : 

Though  wine's  hue  it  might  bor- 
row, 

'Twas  filled  with  coming  sorrow, 

With  endless  heart-pain  brim- 
ming high, 

Whence  both  at  last  must  die. 

But  she  thereof  was  ignorant : 

She  rose,  and  straightway  thith- 
er went. 

Innocent  and  unchidden, 

Where  glass  and  drink  were  hid- 
den ; 

Brought  to  Tristjin,  her  master 
brave, 

Who  first  to  Iseult  gave. 

She  first  refused,  then  drank  and 
laughed, 

And  gave  to  Tristan,  and  he 
quaffed  : 

They  both  imagined,  it  was  wine. 

Then  came  Brangaene,  saw  the 
shine 

Of  that  bright  flagon,  knew  it 
well. 

And  did  forbode  the  coming 
spell. 

So  great  her  terror  was,  that  she 

Lost  force  and  senses  utterly. 

And  she  became  as  are  the 
dead. 

With  deathly  heart  then  forth 
she  sped, 

That  fatal  flagon  of  all  the  w-orld 

Took  with  her,  threw,  and  down- 
ward hurled 

Into  the  wild  and  raging  sea. 

Ah,  woe  !  "  she  cried,  "  0,  mis- 
erable me ! 


84 


GEUMAK  LITERATURE. 


daz  ich  zer  werlde  ie  wart  geborn ! 
Ich  anne,  wie  lian  ich  verlorn 
min  ere  unt  mine  triuwe  ! 
Daz  ez  Got  iemer  riuwe, 
daz  ich  an  dise  reise  ie  kam, 
daz  mich  der  tot  do  niht  ennam, 

do  ich  an  dise  veige  vart 
Mit  Isote  ie  bescheiden  wart ! 
Owe  Tristan  unde  Isot  ! 

diz  iranc  ist  iuwer  beider  tot ! " 

Nu  daz  diu  maget  und  der  man, 

Isot  unde  Tristan, 

den  tranc  getfunken  beide,  sa 

was  ouch  der  werlde  unmuoze 

da, 
Minne,  aller  herzen  lagerin, 

Tint  sleich  zir  beider  herzen  in. 

E  sis  ie  wurden  gewar, 

do  stiez  se  ir  sigevanen  dar, 

unt  zoch  si  beide  in  ir  gewalt : 

si  wurden  ein  und  einyalt, 

die  zwei  unt  zwivalt  waren  e  : 

si  zwei  en  waren  do  niht  me 
widerwertic  under  in  : 
Isote  haz,  der  was  do  hin. 
Diu  suonerinne  Minne, 
diu  haete  ir  beider  sinne 
von  hazze  also  gereinet, 
mit  liebe  also  vereinet. 


That  ever  to  the  world  was  born! 
0,  wretched  me,  how  am  I  shorn 
Of  honor  and  fidelity  ! 
Xow  God's  great  pity  granted  be, 
That  ever  I  this  journey  made, — 
That  death  had  not  the  purpose 

stayed. 
Or  ever  on  this  voyage  of  woe 
With  Iseult  I  should  go  ! 
Iseult       and       Tristan  —  fatal 

draught  ! 
'Tis  woe  and  death  to  both  that 
quaffed  ! " 
Now  that  the  maiden  and  the 
man. 
Fair  Iseult  and  Tristan, 
Both  drank  the  drink,  upon  them 

pressed 
What  gives  the  world  such  sore 

unrest, — 
Love,  skilled  in  sly  and  prowling 

arts. 
And  swiftly  crept  in  both  their 

hearts  : 
So,  ere  of  him  they  were  aware. 
Stood    his    victorious     banners 

there. 
He    drew  them    both  into    his 

power  : 
One  and  single  were  they  that 

hour 
That  two  and  twofold  were  be- 
fore. 
They  twain  were  verily  no  more 
Opposed  thence,  under  his  sway  ; 
For  Iseult's  hate  had  flown  away. 
The  troubled  senses  of  the  two 
Sweet  Love,  the  Expiator,  knew. 
Made  clean  of  hate  that  blighted, 
Gave  love  that  so  united. 


THE  MEDIAEVAL   EPICS. 


85 


daz  ietweder  dem  andern  was 
durliluter  als  ein  s^jigelglas. 

Si  liaeteu  beide  ein  herze  ; 

ir  swaere  was  sin  smerze, 
sin  smerze  was  ir  swaere  ; 
si  waren  beide  ein  baere 
an  liebe  unde  an  leide, 
unt  lifden  sicb  doch  beide, 
unt  tete  daz  zwivel  unde  scbam 
si  scliamte  sich,  er  tete  alsam  ; 

zi  zwivelte  an  im,  er  an  ir. 


That  either  to  the  other  was 
More  crystal-clear  than  mirror- 
glass. 
Both  had    one    heart    between 

them, 
Her  pain  became  his  sorrow, 
His  sorrow  was  her  pain  ; 
And  both  were  fondly  fain 
SufEering  to  share,  and  bliss  •, 
Yet  hid  the  sense  of  this 
And  felt  both  doubt  and  shame  : 
She  was   abashed,   and  he   the 

same  ; 
He    doubted  her,    she  doubted 
him. 


The  clearness  and  purity  of  tlie  language  will  make 
themselves  felt,  even  by  one  who  is  only  slightly  fa- 
miliar with  the  German  of  the  Middle  Ages.  Of  all  the 
Minnesingers  and  courtly  epic  poets,  I  find  that  Gott- 
fried and  Walther  von  der  Vogelweide  offer  the  least 
difficulty  to  the  modern  reader, — for  the  same  reason 
that  Goldsmith's  "Vicar  of  Wakefield"  is  the  English 
book  most  easily  read  by  a  German:  they  combine 
elegance  of  style  and  the  nicest  choice  of  epithets  with 
the  greatest  simplicity  and  fluency.  To  one  already  ac- 
quainted with  German,  the  poets  of  the  Middle  Ages 
are  more  rapidly  understood  through  the  ear  than 
through  the  eye,  because  the  rules  of  spelling  have 
been  varied  much  more,  during  the  last  five  or  six 
hundred  years,  than  those  of  pronunciation.  The 
latter,  in  fact,  still  exists  as  a  vulgar  dialect,  in  the 
mountain  regions  of  Central  Germany.     I  have  quoted, 


86  GEI^MAX  LITERATURE. 

purposely,  the  original  text  instead  of  tlie  transla- 
tions into  Modern  German,  because  I  think  a  little 
attention  will  enable  you  to  understand  it  nearly  as  well, 
and  something  of  its  peculiar  racy  flavor  will  always  be 
felt,  even  when  not  entirely  understood. 

If  you  are  familiar  with  Tennyson's  poem  of  "  The 
Last  Tournament,"  in  his  "Idylls  of  the  King,"  I  beg 
you  to  notice  the  violence  he  has  done  to  the  original 
legend.  He  quite  omits  the  episode  of  the  magic  love- 
potion,  and  presents  Tristan  and  Iseult  to  us  as  a  pair 
of  common  sinners.  It  is  this  very  magic  spell — the 
equivalent  of  the  Fate  of  the  Greek  tragedies — which 
moves  our  deepest  symjDathies,  and  ennobles  the  two 
characters.  Tristan  cannot  escape  his  devotion,  in  the 
legend ;  he  is  made  faithful  by  a  fatal  spell ;  but  Tenny- 
son makes  him  sing :  "  Free  love ;  fi'ee  field  ;  we  love 
but  while  we  may !  " 

Gottfried  von  Strasburg  certainly  possesses,  in  a  very 
high  degree,  the  talent  of  poetic  narrative.  We  may 
tire  of  his  interminable  details,  when  reading  several 
books  of  ''Tristan'  connectedly  ;  but  we  may  open  the 
work  anywhere,  and  we  strike  at  once  upon  life,  move- 
ment, brightness.  The  uniformity  of  the  short  iambic 
measure,  which  allows  little  variety  of  cadence,  is  not 
favorable  to  a  long  epic  poem  ;  but  the  authors  of  that 
age  seem  to  have  known  only  this  measure  and  a  rather 
rough  alexandrine.  The  iambic  pentameter  appears  in 
their  lyrics,  and  moves  with   both  sweetness  and  dig- 


THE  MEDIEVAL  EPICS  87 

nity ;  yet  it  never  occurred  to  them  to  use  it  in  narra- 
tive poetry. 

I  shall  last  notice  him  whom  I  consider  the  greatest 
of  the  courtly  minstrels  —  Wolfram  von  Eschenbach. 
Although  he  was  a  noble,  we  know  less  of  his  personal 
history  than  of  that  of  the  peasant  Walther.  The  date 
of  his  birth  is  unknown  ;  even  the  place  is  uncertain,  al- 
though the  village  of  Eschenbach,  in  Franconia — some 
fifty  miles  west  of  Nuremberg — has  been  fixed  upon  by 
most  scholars.  He  was  wholly  uneducated — could  not 
even  read  or  write ; — the  materials  of  his  epics  were 
read  to  him  by  others,  and  his  own  verses  were  dictated 
to  scribes.  He  lived  for  many  years  at  the  court  of  the 
Landgraf  Hermann  of  Thuringia,  in  the  Wartburg,  and 
after  the  latter's  death  is  supposed  to  have  been  driven 
away  by  the  severe  piety  of  his  son  Ludwig  and  St. 
Elizabeth  of  Hungary.  He  died  somewhere  about  the 
year  1230. 

When,  in  reading  Gottfried  von  Strasburg's  ''Tristan" 
I  came  upon  the  passage  in  the  eighth  book,  where  he 
speaks  of  Hartmann  von  Aue,  how  he  "through  and 
through  colors  and  adorns  a  story,  how  clear  and  pure 
is  the  crystal  current  of  his  words," — followed  by  a 
reference  to  Wolfram  von  Eschenbach,  as  "  the  inventor 
of  all  strange  things,  hunter  of  wild  stories," — I  could 
not  reconcile  the  unfriendly  words  Avith  the  place  and 
fame  of  the  two  authors.  There  is  no  probability  that 
they  ever  met,  or  some  personal  enmity  of  Gottfried 


88  GERMAJSr  LITERATURE. 

miglit  explain  tlie  passage.  But,  after  more  carefully 
examining  Wolfram  von  Esclienbacli's  epics,  I  am  satis- 
fied that  the  radical  difference  between  the  poetic  con- 
stitutions of  the  two  men,  together  with  the  despotism 
of  conventional  tastes  in  their  day,  furnish  a  sufficient 
explanation.  If  you  take  the  two  men — one  blond, 
blue-eyed,  joyous,  graceful,  sympathetic,  and  one  dark, 
brooding,  with  deep-set,  inscrutable  eyes,  irregular  in 
his  movements,  abstracted  and  proud — and  ^\\i  them 
into  garments  of  the  same  stuff  and  the  same  cut,  you 
will  have  an  illustration  of  the  difference  between  Gott- 
fried's ''Tristan'  and  Wolfram's  "ParzivaJr  The  change 
of  spirit  and  atmosphere  is  so  marked,  that  one  need  not 
be  a  critical  scholar  to  feel  it.  I  have  quoted  the  open- 
ing lines  of  the  former  epic  :  now  take  the  opening  of 
''Farzival " : 


1st  zwivel  lierzen  nahgebtir,  Is  doubt  a  neigliborto  tbe  lieart, 

daz  muoz  der  sele  werden  sur  ?  That  to  the  soul  must  be  a  smartl 

gesmaeliet  unde  gezieret  Disgrace  and  honor  bide 

ist,  swa  sich  parrieret  As  equals,  side  by  side, 

unverzaget  mannes  muot.  In  the  strong  man  and  bold, 

als  agelestern  varwe  tuot.  Like  magpie's  hue  twofold, 

der  mac  dennoch  wesen  geil,  Yet  may  he  joyful  be, 

wand'  an  ime  sint  beidin  teil  When  unto  both  sides  free, 

des  himeles  und  der  helle.  To  heaven  and  to  hell, 

der  unstaete  geselle  But  when  he's  false  and  fell, 

hat  die  swarzen  varwe  gar.  Then  black's  his  hue  in  verity, 

und  wirt  ochnahder  vinstervar  :  And  near  to  darkness  standeth 

he: 

so  habet  sich  an  die  blanken  So    he    who    steadfast    is,   and 

right, 

der  mit  staeten  gedanken.  Holds  only  to  the  color  white. 


THE  MEDIAEVAL  EPICS.  89 

diz  fliegende  bispel  This  flying  parable,  I  wis 

ist  turn  ben  liuten  gar  ze  snel,  Too  fast  for  silly  people  is  ; 

sine  mugen's  niht  erdenken  ;  They  cannot  come  the  meaning 

nigh, 
wand'  ez  kan  vor  in  wenken  Since  it  before  their  minds  will 

rehte  alsam  ein  schelles  base.  Even  as  flies  a  frightened  hare. 


Here  we  feel,  in  the  very  first  words,  tlie  presence  of 
a  metaphysical  or  rather  psychological  element :  the 
sense  is  compact,  and  the  lines  move  as  if  with  a  different 
step,  although  the  measure  is  the  same  as  in  "Tristan" 
There  are  none  of  those  sparkling  epithets  which  entice 
us  on  from  point  to  point ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  we 
feel  the  touch  of  a  grave  and  lofty  intelligence,  to  whom 
the  thought  is  more  than  its  external  form.  In  Wolfram 
the  poetic  nature  seems  to  move  forward  centuries,  at 
a  single  stride ;  but  the  poetic  art  fails  to  keep  pace 
with  it.  Even  the  language  no  longer  seems  the  same  : 
the  construction  is  unnecessarily  forced,  uneven,  and  im- 
presses us  like  a  different  dialect,  until  we  perceive  that 
it  is  only  the  dialect  of  an  individual  mind,  our  insight 
into  which  will  furnish  us  the  key. 

The  name  is  our  English  Percival,  and  the  hero  is 
that  knight  of  Arthur's  Eound  Table,  who  alone  saw 
the  Holy  Grail,  after  the  transfiguration  of  Sir  Gala- 
had which  Tennyson  describes  in  the  second  of  his  last 
volume  of  Idylls.  A  Provencal  poem  by  Guiot,  and  the 
French  legend  of  " Chretien  de  Troyes''  seem  to  have  been 
Wolfram's  chief  authorities  for  the  story;  but  he  has 


90  GERM  AX  LITERATURE. 

amplified  and  enriched  it,  not  like  Gottfried  in  "Tristan,'^ 
for  the  delight  of  picturesque  narrative,  but  with  refer- 
ence to  the  spiritual  symbolism  which  pervades  it.  The 
search  for  the  Holy  Grail — the  San  Graal — the  cup 
from  which  Christ  drank  at  the  last  supper  with  his  dis- 
ciples, is  one  of  the  most  mysteriously  beautiful  legends 
of  the  Middle  Ages.  Galahad,  whom  Tennyson  has 
celebrated,  is  not  mentioned  by  Wolfram.  The  story, 
as  he  tells  it  in  ^'Farzival/'  is  so  rich  in  details,  that  I 
cannot  take  time  to  repeat  them :  the  rudest  outline 
must  suffice. 

The  poem  commences  with  the  adventures  of  Gamuret 
of  Anjou,  the  father  of  Parzival,  who,  after  becoming 
King  of  Wales  and  Norway  and  marrying  Queen  Herze- 
leide,  dies  in  Bagdad.  The  sorrowing  Queen  retires 
into  the  desert  of  Soltane,  and  brings  up  Parzival  as  a 
peasant-boy.  When  he  grows  up«  and  sees  the  gay 
knights  riding  by,  he  begs  leave  to  go  out  and  seek 
adventures,  and  his  mother  finally  consents,  but  puts  on 
him  a  fool's  cap  and  bells.  After  overcoming  various 
knights,  he  reaches  Arthur's  court,  but  is  not  yet  ad- 
mitted to  the  Eound  Table.  An  old  knight,  named 
Gurnemanz,  teaches  him  knightly  mamiers,  and  sends 
him  forth  with  the  caution  not  to  ask  many  questions. 
He  rescues  the  Queen  Condwiramur  from  King  Cla- 
mide  of  Brandigan,  marries  her  and  becomes  King  of 
Brobarz.  On  his  way  to  visit  his  mother,  after  these 
events,  he  comes  to  a  castle  beside  a  lake.     The  King, 


THE  MEDIAEVAL  EPICS.  91 

with  four  linndred  kniglits,  sits  at  a  table  in  a  splendid 
liall,  and  all  are  fed  by  the  miraculous  2:)Ower  of  the 
Holy  Grail,  which  the  Queen  places  upon  the  table. 
The  King  bleeds  from  a  wound,  and  the  knights  are 
overcome  with  sorrow,  but  Parzival,  who  is  most  hos- 
pitably treated,  asks  no  question.  On  leaving,  he  learns, 
too  late,  that  he  has  been  inMonsalvalsche,  the  castle  of 
the  Grail,  and  should  have  asked  the  King  the  cause  of 
his  wound.  Soon  after  this,  Arthur,  who  has  heard  of 
Parzival's  wonderful  exploits,  leaves  his  capital  of  Car- 
duel  to  seek  him.  After  fighting,  incognito,  with  several, 
he  is  recognized  by  Gawain,  and  becomes  a  member  of 
the  Round  Table. 

Several  books  are  devoted  to  the  adventures  of  both 
Parzival  and  Gawain,  in  their  search  for  the  Grail. 
Neither  finds  it,  but  both  perform  wonders  of  bravery, 
strength  and  self-denial.  Toward  the  close,  without 
any  apparent  reason  for  the  preference  given,  or  the 
sudden  change  of  destiny,  a  sorceress  announces  to  Par- 
zival, at  Arthur's  table,  that  he  has  been  cliosen  King 
of  the  Grail.  He  thereupon  goes  to  the  lost  castle, 
heals  the  former  King,  by  asking  him  the  cause  of  his 
wound,  and  declares  his  son  Lohengrin, — who  after- 
ward, as  the  Knight  of  the  Swan,  becomes  the  hero  of 
a  romantic  legend, — King  of  Wales,  Norway,  Anjou  and 
several  other  countries. 

This  is  a  very  insufficient  sketch  of  the  story,  but  the 
episodes  are  so  attached  to  each  other,  by  the  associated 


92  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

fates  of  the  different  characters,  that  they  cannot  easily 
be  separated.  The  author's  peculiar  genius  is  mani- 
fested in  every  part,  and  thus  the  work  has  a  spiritual 
coherence  which  distinguishes  it  from  all  other  epics 
of  the  age.  Parzival  is  not  a  mere  form  of  action — a 
doer  of  deeds,  like  Hartmann's  EreTc  ;  or  a  heroic  lover, 
like  Gottfried's  Tristan:  he  is  a  pure,  noble,  aspiring 
soul,  and  the  Grail  is  to  him  the  symbol  of  a  loftier  life. 
Many  scholars,  indeed,  consider  that  he  represents  the 
life  of  the  spirit,  and  Gawain  the  life  of  the  world,  and 
they  have  found  a  more  j)ervading  and  elaborate  alle- 
gorical character  in  the  work  than,  I  think,  was  ever 
intended  by  its  author.  But  in  regard  to  the  tendency 
of  his  genius,  we  cannot  be  mistaken. 

I  must  confess  that  the  more  I  study  the  poem,  the 
more  I  find  a  spiritual  meaning  shining  through  its 
lines.  The  perfect  innocence  and  purity  of  Parzival,  as 
a  boy,  are  wonderfully  drawn :  the  doubts  of  his  age 
of  manhood,  the  wasted  years,  the  trouble  and  gloom 
which  brood  over  him,  suggest  a  large  background  of 
earnest  thought ;  and,  although  the  symbolism  of  the 
Holy  Grail  may  not  be  entirely  clear,  it  means  at  least 
this  much — that  peace  of  soul  comes  only  through  Faith 
and  Obedience.  Like  Tennyson's  Galahad,  Wolfram 
seems  to  say,  in  Parzival : 

"  I  muse  on  joy  tliat  will  not  cease, 

Pure  spaces  clothed  in  living  beams, 
Pure  lilies  of  eternal  peace, 
Wliose  odors  haunt  my  dreams.'* 


THE  MEDIEVAL  EPICS.  93 

To  Wolfram  von  Eschenbacli,  the  external  shows  of 
life  were  but  disguises  through  which  he  sought  to 
trace  the  action  of  the  moral  and  spiritual  forces  which 
develop  the  human  race.  His  psychological  instincts 
were  too  profound  for  a  simple  tale  of  knightly  adven- 
ture ;  he  was  not  enough  of  a  literary  artist  to  arrange 
his  conceptions  of  man's  nature  into  a  symmetrical  form, 
and  then  to  represent  them  completely  through  his 
characters;  and  thus  we  find,  in  "Farzwcd,''  a  struggle 
between  the  two  elements — between  thought  and  lan- 
guage, between  idea  and  action.  This  peculiarity  is  at 
first  a  disturbance  to  the  reader,  but  it  does  not  prevent 
him  from  feeling  the  latent,  underlying  unity  of  the 
work. 

The  parting  of  Queen  Herzeleide  from  her  son  Parzi- 
val  is  one  of  the  simpler  passages,  yet  even  here  we 
find  some  of  Wolfram's  characteristic  expressions  : 

Der  knappe  tump  unde  wert  The  boy,  silly  yet    brave  in- 
deed, 

iescb  von  der  mnoter  dicke  ein  Oft  from  his  mother  begged  a 

pfert.  steed. 

daz   begiinde   se    in    ir    herzen  That  in   her  heart  did   she   la- 

klagen.  ment  : 

sie  dahte  "  i'n  wil  im  niht  ver-  She    thought:     "him    must    I 

sagen  :  make  content, 

ez  muoz  aber  vil  boese  sin."  Yet  must  the  thing  an  evil  be." 

do  gedahte  mer  diu  kiinegin,  Thereafter  further  pondered  she: 

"  der  liute  vil  bi  spotte  siut.  "  The  folk  are  prone  to  ridicule, 

toren  kleider  sol  min  kint  My  child  the  garments  of  a  fool 

ob  sime  liehten  libe  tragen.  Shall  on  his  shining  body  wear, 

wirt  er  geroufet  unt  geslagen,  If    he    be    scoffed    and    beaten 

there, 


94 


GERMAN  LITERATURE. 


so  kumet  er  mir  lier  wider  wol." 
owe  der  jaemerliclien  dol ! 
diu  f  rouwe  nam  ein  sactuocli : 

sie     sneit     im     hemede     unde 

bruocli, 
daz    doch    an    eime    stucke  er- 

scliein, 
unz    enmitten    an    sin    blankez 

bein. 
daz  wart  f  lir  toren  kleit  erkant. 
sin  gugel  man  obene  drufe  vant. 
al  friscli  ruch  kelberin 

von  einer  hut  zwei  riballin 

nacb  sinen  beinen  wart  gesniten. 

da  wart  groz  jamer  niht  vermiten. 

din  kilnegin  w^s  also  bedalit, 

sie  bat  beliben  in  die  nalit. 

dune  solt  nilit  liinnen  keren, 

ich  wil  dicb  list  e  leren. 

an  uugebanten  strazen, 

soltu  tunkel  f  ilrte  lazen  : 

die  sihte  unde  luter  sin, 

da  solte  al  balde  riten  in. 

du  solt   dicli  site  nieten, 

der  werelde  griiezen  bieten. 

op  dicli  ein  gra  wise  man 

zuht  wil  lern  als  er  wol  kan, 

dem  soltu  gerne  volgen, 

und  wis  im  niht  erbolgen. 

sun,  la  dir  bevolhen  sin, 

swa  du  guotes  wibes  vingerlin 

mligest  erwerben  unt  ir  gruoz, 

daz  nim  :    ez  tuot  dir  kumbers 
buoz. 


Percbance     lie'll    come    to    me 

again." 
Ab,  me,  bow  wretched  was  her 

pain  ! 
The  dame  a  piece  of  sackcloth 

seeks, 
And  cuts  therefrom  a  shirt  and 

breeks, 
Tbat  both  in  one  they  seem  to 

be, 
And  reach  below  to   the  white 

knee. 
For  a  fool's  dress  known  was  that, 
And  up  above  a  pointed  hat. 
Then  from  a  fresh,  rough  heifer's 

hide 
Stuff  for  two  shoes  did  she  di- 
vide, 
And  cut  them  so  to  fit  his  feet  ; 
And  still  her  dole  was  great. 
The  Queen  considered  all  aright. 
And  bade  him  tarry  over  night. 
'  Hence  not  sooner  shalt  thou  go^ 
Ere  I  to  thee  shall  wisdom  show. 
Shun  untraveled  road  : 
Leave  dark  ways  unt  rode  ; 
If  they  are  sure  and  fair, 
Enter  and  journey  there. 
Strive  to  be  courteous  then. 
Offer  thy  greeting  to  men. 
If  thee  a  gray  wise  man 
Duty  will  teach,  as  well  he  can, 
Willingly  follow  his  rede. 
And  auger  him  not  with  deed. 
Son,  be  advised  this  thing  : 
If  thou  a  good  dame's  ring 
And  her  greeting  may'st  win  to 

thee. 
Take  :    and  thy  troubles    shall 

lighter  be. 


IHE  MEDn^VAL  EPICS. 


95 


du  solt  z'ir  kusse  gahen 
und  ir  lip  vast'  iimbevahen  : 

daz  git  geliicke  und  liohen  muot, 

op  sie  kiusclie  ist  unde  guot." 


Hasten  to  kiss  her  face, 

And  to  clasp  her  in  firm  em- 
brace ; 

For,  when  she  is  good  and 
pure, 

'Twill  good  luck  and  courage  in- 
sure." 


As  a  specimen  of  his  descriptiye  style,  I  will  quote 
some  lines  from  the  fifth  book,  where,  in  the  magic  cas- 
tle of  Monsalviilsche,  the  Queen,  Repanse  de  Sclioie, 
brings  the  Holy  Grail  to  the  King's  table : 

Sie  nigen.     ir  zwuo  do  truogen  They  bowed.      Then  twain  of 

dar  them  did  bear 

uf  die  tavelen  wol  gevar  The  silver  to  the  tables  fair 

daz  silber,  unde  leiten'z  nider.  Full    carefully,    and  there   did 

place  : 
do  giengen  sie  mit  ziihten  wider       And  they  returned  with  modest 

grace 


zuo  den  ersten  zwelven  san. 


To  the  first  twelve   within  the 
hall, 
ob  i  'z  gepriievet  rehte  han,  If  I  have  rightly  counted  all, 

hie  sulen  ahzehen  frouwen  sten.       Must  there  now'eighteen  ladies 

be. 
Behold!     six    others    next    we 


avoy  nu  siht  man  sehse  gen 

in  waete  die  man  tiure  gait  : 

daz  was  halbez  plialt, 

daz  ander  pfell'  von  Xinnive. 
dise  unt  die  ersten  sehse  e 

truogen  zwelf  rocke  geteilet, 

gein  tiwerr  kost  geveilet. 


All  clad  in  cloth   men  precious 

hold: 
The  stuff  was  half  of  silk  and 

gold, 
Muslin  of  Nineveh  the  rest. 
These,    and   the  first   six,    thus 

were  drest 
Alike     in     mantles    two  -  fold 

wrought, 
And      for    a     heavy     treasure 

bought. 


96  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

niicli  den  kom  din  kiinegin.  Now  after  them   advanced   the 

Queen, 

ir  antlitze  gap  den  schin,  With  countenance  of  so  bright 

a  sheen, 

sie  wanden  alle  ez  wolde  tagen.        They   all   imagined   day   would 

dawn. 

man  sach  die  maget  an  ir  tragen       One  saw,  the  maiden  was  clothed 

on 

pfellel  von  Arabi.  With  muslin  stuffs  of  Araby. 

uf  einem  griienen  achmardi  On  a  green  silken  cushion  she 

truve  sie  den  wunsch  von  par-  The  j^earl  of  Paradise  did  bear, 
dis, 

bede  wurzeln  unde  ris.  Complete, — root,  branch,  begin- 

ning, end, — 

daz  was  ein  dine,  daz  hiez  der      The  Grail  it  was,    all-glorious, 


Gral, 
erden  wunsches  iiberwal. 

Repanse  de  schoye  sie  hiez, 

die  sich  der  gral  tragen  liez. 

der  gral  was  von  solher  art  : 

wol  muose   ir  kiusche   sin   be-       That   she  who  bore  it  must  be 


fair, 
Beyond    perfection    Earth    can 

lend. 
Repanse  de  Schoie,  so  runs  the 

tale. 
Was  name  of  her  that  bore  the 

Grail  ; 
And  so  its  nature  did  endure. 


wart, 
diu  sin  ze  rehte  solde  pflegen  : 


pure. 
Of  just  and  perfect  heart,  and 
strong 
diu  muose  valsches  sich  bewe-      To  frighten  falsehood,  sin   and 


gen. 
Voreme  grale  komen  lieht : 

diu  warn  von  armer  koste  niht 

sehs  glas  lane  luter  wol  getan, 
dar  inne  balsam  der  wol  bran. 

do  sie  komen  von  der  tiir 

ze  rehter  maze  alsus  her  fiir. 


wrong. 
Before  the  Grail  there  came  a 
light. 

The  worth  whereof  was  nothing 
slight : 

Six  cups  of  dazzling  crystal  held 

A  burning   oil   that    balm   dis- 
pelled. 

Now    when,    in    proper    order, 
all. 

Entering,  had  traversed  the  high 
halL 


THE  MEDIEVAL   EPIC 8.  97 

mit  ziihten  neic  diu  klinegin  The    Queen  bowed   down  with 

modest  grace, 
und  al  diu  juncfrouwelin  And  the  six  maidens  bowed  the 

face, 
die  da  truogen  balsemvaz.  WTio  bore  the  cups  of  burning 

balm, 
diu  klinegin  valscheite  laz  The    bJameless    Queen,   proud, 

pure  and  calm, 
sazte  fur  den  wirt  den  gral.  Before  the    host  put  down  the 

Grail ; 
diz  maere  giht  daz  Parzival  And  Percival,  so  runs  the  tale, 

dicke  an  sie  sach  unt  dahte.  To  gaze  upon  her  did  not  fail, 

diu  den  gral  da  brahte.  Who    thither    bore    the    Holy 

Grail. 


I  have  chosen  those  passages  which  illustrate  Wol- 
fram's manner  as  a  poet,  especially  as  compared  with 
Gottfried's.  We  have  no  means  of  estimating  the  influ- 
ence of  either  upon  his  day  and  generation.  Gottfried's 
allusion  indicates  that  there  were  rival  audiences  as 
well  as  authors,  and,  since  we  find  the  critics  divided 
now,  we  may  well  believe  that  there  was  greater  di- 
versity of  opinion  then.  Wolfram's  adherents  would  be 
among  the  thinkers,  who  were  then  rapidly  increasing 
in  number ;  Gottfried's  among  the  men  of  refinement 
and  education.  The  latter  may  be  called  the  literary 
ancestor  of  Wieland ;  but  Wolfram's  lineal  descendant, 
with  a  long  line  of  generations  between,  was  Goethe. 

Neither  of  the  other  two  epics  of  Wolfram — "  WiUe- 

halm''  and  ^^TitureV — was  completed:  the  latter  was 

barely  begun,  at  the  time  of  his  death.     The  "  Wille- 

halm  "  celebrates  the  adventures  of  Wilhelm  von  Orange, 

5 


98  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

of  Provence,  tlie  son  of  the  Count  of  Narbonne,  in  his 
wars  with  the  heathens.  He  undoubtedly  followed  a 
Provencal  original  in  this,  as  in  ''Parziv  /,"  and  was  per- 
haps led  to  the  theme  by  his  admiration  of  Wilhelm's 
character.  ^'Titurer'  is  an  outgrowth  from  ^'FarzivaV  : 
the  same  characters  appear.  It  is  written  in  a  different 
metre,  and  shows,  in  the  fragment  which  remains,  a 
greater  force  ancl  fluency  of  expression.  Although  the 
length  of  the  last  line  interferes  with  the  movement 
of  the  verses,  it  is  easy  to  see  how  much  more  freely 
the  author's  thought  carries  itself,  without  losing  any- 
thing of  its  subtlety  and  suggestiveness.  I  quote  a 
few  stanzas  from  the  conversation  of  the  two  lovers, 
Schionatulander  and  Sigune : 
Sigune  says : 

"  Ich  weiz  wol,  du  bist  lands  unt  "  I  know   full   well  that  tliou   of 

liute  groziu  frouwe  ;  lands    and    people    art  the 

Queen  ; 
des  enger  ich  alles  niht,  wan  daz       I  seek  not  that,  so  through  thine 

din    herze    dur    din     ouge  eyes  thy  heart  be  seen, 

schouwe, 
also  daz  ez  den  kumber  min  be-       So   that    it    doth   perceive    my 

denke  :  weight  of  sorrow  ; 

nu  hilf  mir  schiere,  e  daz  din      Then  help  me  now,  ere  heart 

minn    min    herze    und  die  and  love  a  deeper  trouble 

froude  verkrenke."  borrow  ! 

The  Queen  answers : 

**  Swers6  minnehiit,  dazsinminne  "If  one  hath   such   a  love  that 
ist  gevaere  danger  therein  be, 

deheime  als  lieben  friunde,  als       The  unfitting  word,  to  friend  so 
du  mir  bist,  daz  wort  unge-  dear  as  thou  to  me, 

baere 


THE  MEDIAEVAL   EPICS.  99 

wirt  von  mir    nimer  benennet  I  ne'er  will  name  witli  name  of 

minne  :  love  or  lover  : 

Got  weiz  wol,  daz  icL  nie  bekan-  For,  knowetli  God,  love's  loss  or 

de  minnen  fliist,  noch  ir  ge-  gain  I  never  did  discover. 
winne. 

"Minne,  ist  daz  ein  Er?    malit  du  "  For  love,  is  it  a  He?    Canst  give 

minn  mir  diuten  ?  solution  just  ? 

Ist  daz  ein  Sie  ?  Kumet  mir  minu.  Is  it  a  She  ?     So  come  it,  how 

wie  sol  icli  minne  getriuten  ?  shall  I  dare  trust  ? 

Muoz  icli   sie   behalten    bi    den  Must  love  with  dolls  be  left,  and 

locken?  childish  rapture? 

Od  fliuget  minne  ungerne  uf  hant  Or  flieth  it  out  of  hand  in  the 

durh  die   wilde  ?     ich    kan  woods  ?     I  surely  can  recap- 

minn  wol  locken."  ture." 


Here  you  will  notice,  not  only  the  expression  of  the 
feeling,  but  also  the  tendency  to  speculate  upon  its 
nature,  Avhich  is  a  peculiarity  of  Wolfram  von  Eschen- 
bach.  It  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  he  was  the  only 
profound  thinker  among  the  German  authors  of  the 
Middle  Ages. 

Wolfram  takes  the  same  delight  in  many-syllabled 
geographic  names,  as  Milton  ;  and  there  are  many  of  his 
lines  which  ring  with  the  same  half-barbaric  music  as 
the  latter's  "  Aspramont  and  Montalban."  He  is  an  un- 
lettered minstrel,  with  great  qualities  in  the  rough ;  a 
man  of  high  aims  and  noble  aspirations,  struggling  with 
insurmountable  limitations,  and  missing  real  greatness 
on  account  of  them.  In  Gottfried's  case,  we  have  every- 
thing but  the  original  quality  of  intellect ;  but  Wolfram, 
having  that,  misses  the  clear  and  harmonious  form 
which  must  be  added,  chiefly  through  the  want  of  the 


100  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

culture  wliicli  Gottfried  possessed.  Could  the  two  have 
been  united  in  one  individual,  Germany  would  have  had 
her  great  mediaeval  poet,  the  equal  of  Dante. 

But  the  epithet  great  must  be  denied  to  this  courtly 
literature.  The  influence  of  the  church  and  of  classic 
learning,  though  greatly  weakened,  was  still  too  pow- 
erful to  permit  a  positive  departure  from  previous 
paths  of  thought.  The  new  wine  was  poured  into  old 
bottles,  but  it  was  not  quite  strong  enough  to  burst 
them.  So,  these  epics  remain  as  priceless  illustra- 
tions of  the  growth  of  the  German  mind  during  the 
Middle  Ages,  of  the  long  fermentation  which  clarified 
into  purity  and  flavor  centuries  afterward,  not  immortal 
in  their  own  solitary  right,  but  from  the  circumstances 
out  of  which  they  grew.  Add  to  them  the  lyric  poetry 
of  the  Minnesingers,  and  we  are  astonished  at  the  pro- 
ductiveness of  the  age.  From  this  point  we  must  date 
the  commencement  of  a  national  culture ;  for  much  of 
the  great  work  of  Charlemagne  had  been  undone  in  the 
three  centuries  between  him  and  the  Hohenstaufens.  If 
the  literature  of  the  latter  period  failed  of  its  immediate 
and  full  efl'ect,  through  the  re-intervention  of  political 
and  ecclesia^^tical  causes,  it  was  none  the  less  a  basis  of 
achievement  upon  which  the  race  thenceforth  stood ; 
and  if  w^e  could  read  the  secrets  of  History,  we  should 
perhaps  find  that  the  harp  preserved  for  Germany  a 
better  possession  than  was  lost  to  her  by  the  sword. 


IV. 

THE  NIBELUNGENLIEB. 

"We  now  come  to  tliat  otlier  literary  element  of  the 
Middle  Ages,  which  is  of  earlier  origin  than  the  courtly 
epics,  but  which  only  assumed  its  present  form  about 
the  time  when  they  were  produced.  I  have  called  it 
the  epic  poetry  of  the  People,  because,  more  than  any- 
thing else  in  the  literature  of  the  human  race — not  even 
excepting  the  "Iliad"  and  the  "Odyssey" — it  has  the 
character  of  a  growth  rather  than  a  composition.  "We 
may  guess  when  its  growth  began;  we  can  very  nearly 
determine  the  time  when  that  growth  ended ;  but  there 
our  knowledge  stops.  By  whom,  or  under  what  cir- 
cumstances, the  first  legends  came  into  being, — how 
they  were  kept  alive,  increased,  transformed  with  each 
generation — who  took  the  rude,  shapeless,  separated 
parts,  and  united  them  in  one  grand,  coherent  form, — 
are  questions  which  cannot  be  positively  answered. 

The  more  carefully  we  study  the  "NibehmgenUecl" 
and  its  history,  the  more  we  are  impressed  with  its 
exceptional  character.  Unnoticed  in  the  records  of  the 
ages;  ignored,  perhaps  contemptuously  disparaged  by 
the  minstrelsy  of  the  courts ;  kept  alive  only  through 
the  inherited  fondness  of  the  masses  for  their  old  tra- 

101 


102  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

ditious,  it  lias  been  almost  miraculously  preserved  to  us, 
to  be  now  appreciated  as  the  only  strong,  original  crea- 
tion of  tlie  youth  of  the  German  race. 

The  fact  that  we  find  in  the  ^' Nihelungenlied "  traces 
of  the  ancient  mythology,  with  various  incidents  which 
are  given  in  the  earliest  prose  Edda  of  the  Scandina- 
vians, together  with  characters  taken  from  the  most 
stirring  history  of  the  Volker wander iing,  or  Migration  of 
the  Races,  proves  the  antiquity  of  the  material.  But 
the  anachronism  of  making  Theodoric  the  Great,  the 
Gothic  King  of  Italy,  and  Attila,  King  of  the  Huns, 
contemporaries,  also  gives  us  a  clue  to  the  probable  time 
when  the  two  elements  began  to  be  fused  together. 
Attila  died  in  453,  and  Theodoric  in  526.  The  unedu- 
cated mass  of  people  would  soon  forget  dates,  and  con- 
fuse the  events  of  former  generations ;  but  some  little 
time  must  be  allowed  to  elapse  before  this  could  take 
place.  The  "  oldest  inhabitants  "  must  first  die,  before 
the  united  legends  could  be  publicly  recited  without 
their  accuracy  being  disputed  by  some  grey-haired  lis- 
tener. We  can  hardly  assume  that  the  first  blending  of 
the  different  elements  took  place  before  the  year  600,  or 
much  later  than  a  century  afterward.  It  is  most  prob- 
able that  the  collection  made  by  Charlemagne  included 
all  that  was  in  existence  in  his  day ;  but,  that  collection 
being  lost,  we  are  left  without  any  record  of  the  growth 
or  changing  character  of  the  legend,  until  the  tenth  cen- 
tury. 


THE  NIBELUNOENLIEB.  103 

First  of  all,  I  must  recall  to  jour  memory  tlie  features 
of  the  migration  of  the  tribes.  The  commencement  of 
this  remarkable  historical  episode  is  usually  hxed  about 
the  year  375,  in  which  year  the  Huns,  coming  from  Cen- 
tral Asia,  and  first  overcoming  the  Alans,  between  the 
Yolga  and  the  Don,  broke  up  the  ancient  kingdom  of 
the  Goths,  and  started  them  on  their  wanderings  west- 
ward. The  Ostrogoths  had  up  to  that  time  possessed 
the  country  between  the  Don  and  the  Dniester,  in  South- 
ern Kussia,  and  the  Yisigoths,  all  the  region  north  of  the 
Danube,  as  far  westward  as  the  river  Theiss,  in  Hungary. 
Gradually  pressing  westward,  and  driving  the  other 
tribes,  including  the  original  Germanic  races,  before 
them,  the  Huns,  then  under  Attila,  were  finally  arrested 
by  the  great  battle  near  Chalons-sur-Marne,  where  they 
were  defeated  by  the  Romans  under  Aetius  and  the 
Yisigoths  under  Theodoric  I.  This  was  in  the  year  451, 
and  two  years  later  Attila  died.  The  Yisigoths,  under 
Alaric,  had  already  invaded  Italy  in  402,  but  ten  years 
later  they  passed  through  Southern  Gaul  into  Spain. 
The  Ostrogoths,  on  the  contrary,  did  not  reach  Italy 
until  488,  under  Theodoric  the  Great,  who  made  Ye- 
rona  his  capital,  and  is  therefore  called,  in  the  German 
legends  Dietrich  von  Bern.  After  Theodoric's  death, 
the  kingdom  existed  for  a  few  years,  but  finally  ceased 
about  554,  and  the  Gothic  blood  mixed  itself  with  that 
of  the  Lombards,  the  Helvetians  and  the  Germans, 
losing  all  distinctive  national  character. 


104  GERMAN  LITER ATUBE. 

The  Burgundians,  who  were  a  Germanic  race,  inha- 
biting the  region  between  the  Vistula  and  the  Oder,  in 
Prussia,  were  also  driven  to  west  and  south  in  the  gen- 
eral movement,  and  first  settled,  eighty  thousand  men 
strong,  in  Gaul,  between  Geneva  and  Lyons.  Here  they 
became  Arian  Christians  in  the  space  of  eight  days, 
seven  days  being  allowed  for  conversion  and  one  for 
baptism.  Sidonius  Apollinarius  describes  them  as  men 
from  six  to  seven  feet  high,  clothed  in  the  skins  of  beasts, 
and  valuing  their  freedom  as  the  highest  possession. 
When  Attila  entered  Gaul  in  451,  the  Burgundian  King 
Gundicar  (supposed  to  be  the  Gunther  of  the  "Mbe- 
lungenliecr')  opposed  his  march  with  ten  thousand  war- 
riors, but  all  were  slain  after  a  long  and  heroic  defense. 
The  tribe  finally  moved  northward,  and  occupied  the 
country  from  the  Bhine  westward,  including  the  present 
French  province  of  Burgundy. 

This  is  all  of  the  great  migratory  movement  which 
we  require  to  know,  in  reading  the  " Xihehmgenlied ; '^ 
the  other  elements  embodied  in  it  are  either  taken  from 
the  same  source  as  the  older  Scandinavian  Edda,  or 
were  added  as  the  story  was  transmitted  from  mouth  to 
mouth  for  centuries.  Lachmann,  who  devoted  a  great 
deal  of  labor  to  the  examination  of  the  existing  manu- 
scripts and  their  chronological  character,  as  derived 
from  the  language,  has  fixed  upon  twenty  lays,  or  sep- 
arate chapters  of  the  poem,  as  being  of  an  ancient 
origin ;  the  remaining  nineteen  he  considers  as  addi- 


TEE  NIBELUNGENLIED.  105 

tions  made  about  tlie  close  of  tlie  twelftli  century,  for 
the  purj)ose  of  uniting  the  whole  into  one  consistent 
story.  He  states  that  tliere  were  two,  if  not  more,  at- 
tempts to  perform  this  difficult  task,  without  counting 
the  previous  changes  which  he  thinks  the  original  lays 
must  have  undergone  in  the  course  of  several  centuries. 
About  one  hundred  and  eighty  years  after  the  close  of 
this  mediaeval  period  of  German  literature,  printing  was 
invented,  and  one  of  the  earliest  native  works  which 
was  transferred  from  manuscript  to  type  was  Wolfram 
von  Eschenbach's  "Parzivai."  The  '^Nibdimgerdied" 
seems  to  have  been  already  forgotten  by  the  people ; 
and  not  until  the  year  1751  was  a  part  of  it  published  by 
Bodmer,  in  Zurich,  under  the  title  of  "  Chriemhild's 
Eevenge."  The  first  complete  republication  of  the 
entire  epic  was  made  by  Miiller  in  1782.  Afterward, 
Lachmann  and  the  Brothers  Grimm  made  careful  com- 
parisons of  the  three  complete  manuscripts,  and  it  now 
appears  to  be  settled  that  the  oldest  is  that  of  Munich, 
the  next  that  of  St.  Gall — although  there  are  but  a  few 
years'  difference  between  them,  either  way — and  the 
latest,  that  belonging  to  Baron  von  Lassberg.  This  last 
is  the  most  com2:)lete,  but  appears  to  be  the  least 
authentic.  The  Munich  manuscript  is  generally  attri- 
buted to  the  great  unknown,  who  conceived  the  idea 
of  creating  an  epic  unity  out  of  the  scattered  ma- 
terial,^— an  idea  which  he  carried  out  with'  wonder- 
ful power  and  skill,  and  so  nearly  achieved  the  highest 
5^ 


106  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

success  that  we  wonder   how   he    should   have   falir^n 
short  of  it. 

Since  Lachmann,  however,  other  scholars  have  taken 
up  the  study  of  the  poem  with  the  fresher  and  keener 
knowledge  of  our  day.  Zarncke,  Bartsch,  and  last  of 
all,  Hermann  Fischer,  have  applied  to  it  the  tests  of 
philological  and  metrical  criticism  ;  and  the  chief  result 
is  that  the  belief  which  was  so  long  entertained — which 
suggested  to  the  Greek  scholar  Wolff  his  celebrated 
Homeric  theory — that  it  was  the  production  of  many 
authors,  combined  and  thrown  into  a  symmetrical  form 
by  some  poetic  editor,  has  been  generally  given  up.  It 
is  now  admitted  that  the  greater  portion  of  the  poem 
was  the  work  of  one  author,  who  took  the  chief  incidents 
of  the  story  from  a  version  of  the  popular  legend,  writ- 
ten by  order  of  Bishop  Piligrim  of  Passau,  somewhere 
about  the  year  980.  The  time  when  the  '' Nibelungenlied,'' 
in  its  present  form,  was  written,  has  also  been  approxi- 
mately fixed.  It  could  not  have  been  earlier  than  1130, 
nor  later  than  1180  :  thus  it  precedes  the  romantic  epics 
by  a  few  years. 

One  of  the  early  Minnesingers,  who  was  called  "  the 
Kiirenberger,"  has  left  behind  him  fifteen  detached 
stanzas,  written  in  the  measure  of  the  '^ Nibeliingenlied.''' 
It  is  conjectured  that  he  was  either  Magnus  or  Konrad 
von  Klirenberg,  who  were  natives  of  Upper  Austria,  and 
the  German  critics  incline  more  and  more  to  the  beliex 
that  we  must  accept  him  as  the  great  poet  of  the  Middle 


THE  NIB ELUNGEN LIED.  107 

Ages,  liitherto  unknown.  Fischer  asserts  that  the 
''Nihdumjenlied "  was  either  originally  written,  or  care- 
fully revised  and  polished,  about  the  year  1170,  and 
that  it  was  intended  to  be  recited  at  courts,  and  heard 
by  noble  auditors.  It  is  quite  certain  that  between  the 
years  1190  and  1200,  the  poem  was  reproduced  in  two 
different  copies,  one  of  which,  called  the  ^'Vulgata,''  ad-= 
dressed  itself  to  the  common  people.  The  aristocratic 
version  had  but  a  short  life,  if  indeed  any  life  :  the  taste 
of  courts  preferred  the  epics  based  on  the  Arthurian 
legends.  But  the  people  gratefully  accepted  and  cher- 
ished their  version,  and  for  one  hundred  and  fifty  years 
the  few  fragments  of  their  poetry  which  survive,  betray 
its  influence. 

If  you  remember  the  bareness  and  bluntness  of  the 
^'Ilildehra'iidsUecV — the  simple  means  by  which  strong 
effects  are  produced — you  will  understand  the  original 
character  of  the  "  Nihelungenlied,''  which  is  still  pre- 
served through  all  the  changes  of  language.  But  with 
this  simplicity  of  diction,  it  is  richer  in  incident  than 
the  "Iliad."  The  stage  is  crowded  with  characters  ;  for 
the  union  of  three  legendary  cycles  in  one  work,  w^hich 
shall  combine  the  best  features  of  all,  has  resulted  in  a 
condensation  which  excludes  the  prolific  description  and 
sentiment  of  the  courtly  epics.  There  are  not  quite 
10,000  lines,  instead  of  the  20,000  of  Gottfried  or  Hart- 
mann.  Certain  forms  of  expression  are  repeated,  as  in 
their  poems,  but  the  action  varies  with  each  Aventiure, 


108  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

or  adventure,  of  the  thirty-nine,  and  the  poem  closes  as 
abruptly  as  it  begins.  Carlyle  says,  with  entire  truth: 
"The  unknown  singer  of  the  'Nihdungen,'  though  no 
Shakesj^eare,  must  have  had  a  deep  poetic  soul.  .  .  . 
His  poem,  unlike  so  many  old  and  new  pretenders  to 
that  name,  has  a  basis  and  an  organic  structure,  a  begin- 
ning, middle  and  end ;  there  is  one  great  principle  and 
idea  set  forth  in  it,  round  which  all  its  multifarious  parts 
combine  in  living  union.  Eemarkable  it  is,  moreover, 
how  along  with  this  essence  and  primary  condition  of  all 
poetic  virtue,  the  minor  external  virtues  of  what  we  call 
taste,  and  so  forth,  are,  as  it  were,  presupposed :  and  the 
living  soul  of  Poetry  being  there,  its  body  of  incidents, 
its  garment  of  language,  come  of  their  own  accord." 

Now  let  us  take  up  the  " Xibelungenlied,''  in  the  form 
it  wore,  at  the  end  of  the  twelfth  century.  It  may  be  so 
easily  read,  that  I  have  never  been  able  to  see  the  neces- 
sity of  the  translations  into  modern  German.  This  is 
the  opening  stanza : 

Uns  ist  ill  alten  maeren   ]    •wun-  We  find  in  ancient  story  ]  won- 
ders vil  geseit  ders  many  told, 

von  heleden  lobebaeren,    |    von  Of  heroes  of  great  glory,    |    of 
grozer  arebeit,  spirit  strong  and  bold  ; 

von  frouden,  hocligeziten,  \  von  Of  joyances  and  liigb-tides,  |  of 
weinen  und  von  klagen  ;  weeping  and  of  woe, 

von  Kiiener  recken  striten  |  mu-  Of  strife  of  gallant  fighters,    | 
get   ir  nu    w under    hoeren  mote  ye  now  many  wonders 

sagen.  know. 

You  will  notice  that  the  measure  is  peculiar.     Each 


THE  NIBELUNGENLIEB.  109 

line  is  divided  by  a  caesural  pause  so  marked  that  there 
is  a  space  left  between  the  words  to  indicate  it.  The 
first  half  of  the  line  has  three  iambic  feet,  with  a  redun- 
dant syllable ;  the  latter  half  three  feet,  except  in  the 
closing  line  of  the  stanza,  where  it  occasionally  has  four. 
The  measure  varies  in  effect,  sometimes  bold  and  strong, 
with  a  fine  irregularity  of  movement,  sometimes  sweet 
and  musical,  but  frequently  rough  and  halting,  and  it 
requires  some  familiarity  before  it  adjusts  itself  to  the 
ear.  Yet  how  near  it  came  to  a  noble  rhythmical  form 
may  be  seen  from  those  ballads  of  Uhland,  wherein  he 
has  taken  the  same  metrical  principle,  and  simply  given 
it  regularity.  Take  the  opening  of  his  historical  Sua- 
bian  ballads,  for  instance : 

"1st  denn  im  Schwabenlande  verschollen  aller  Sang,"  etc. 
Are  then  the  Suabian  valleys,  by  sounds  of  song  unstirred. 
Where  once  so  clear  on  Staufen  the  knightly  harp  was  heard, 
Apd  why,  if  Song  yet  liveth,  proclaim  not  now  its  chords 
The  deeds  of  hero-fathers,  the  clash  of  ancient  swords? 

Or  take  the  opening  of  Macaulay's  "  Horatius,"  throw 
two  lines  into  one,  and  you  have  the  same  measure : 

"  Lars  Porsena  of  Clusium,  by  the  nine  gods  he  swore 
That  the  great  house  of  Tarquin  should  suffer  wrong  no  more." 

The  second  stanza  of  the  '^Nihelungen  "  is : 

Ez  wuohs  in  Burgonden  |  ein  vil  There  once  was  in  Burgundy  |  a 
edel  magedin,  maid  of  high  degree, 

daz  in  alien  landen  |  niht  schoe-  That  in  all  lands  and  countries  | 
ners  mohte  sin,  no  fairer  might  there  be ; 


110  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

Kriemliilt  gelieizen :  I  si  wart  ein  A   lovely   -woman    was   she,    { 

scoeue  wip.  Cliriemliild  was  she  liight, 

dar  umbe  inuosen  degene   |   vil  For  her  sake  many  swordsmen  | 

verliest  n  den  lip.  must  lose  their  lives  in  fight. 


Thus  simply  the  theme  ojDens.  Chriemhild  the  fair 
and  Brunhild  the  dark  are  the  heroines  ;  Siegfried  the 
Strong,  Gunther  and  Hagen,  Attila  and  Theodoric  the 
heroes.  The  sagas  of  the  Niblungs  and  the  gods  Odin 
and  Loki,  the  marches  of  the  Huns  and  Goths,  magic 
and  human  passion,  love  and  hate,  are  now  mixed  to- 
gether in  a  wild,  fierce  and  fateful  storj,  which  yet 
does  not  soar  so  high  as  to  lose  its  hold  on  the  gene- 
ral sympathies  of  men. 

At  the  same  time  with  the  fair  Burgundian  maiden, 
lived  in  the  Netherlands  Siegfried,  the  son  of  King 
Siegemund  and  Queen  Siegelinde.  He  is  synonymous 
with  the  Sigurd  of  Scandinavian  saga,  the  fair,  strong 
young  knight  who  overcomes  men,  giants  and  dragons. 
When  he  has  reached  the  proj^er  age,  Siegfried  is 
knighted ;  then,  refusing  to  accept  his  father's  sceptre, 
he  goes  to  "Worms,  where  Chriemhild  lives  under  the 
care  of  her  three  brothers,  Gunther,  Gemot  and  Gei<= 
selher.  He  does  not  see  the  famous  beauty  until  after 
he  has  conquered  the  Saxons  and  Danes,  and  brought 
the  Danish  King  Lindegast  captive  to  Worms  :  then  he 
is  presented  to  her,  she  thanks  him,  and  he  is  permitted 
to  give  her  a  kiss.  He  asks  Gunther  for  her  hand,  which 
is  promised  to  him  on  condition  that  he  will  accomj^any 


THE  NIBELUNGENLIED.  HI 

the  latter  to  Iceland  and  assist  him  in  his  wooing  of 
Queen  Brunhild.  Gunther's  uncle,  Hagen,  who  after- 
ward becomes  the  evil  genius  of  the  story,  and  the 
knight  Dankwart  accompany  them.  The  enterprise 
would  liave  failed  had  not  Siegfried  possessed  a  tarn- 
kappe,  or  cap  which  rendered  the  wearer  invisible,  and 
the  sword  Balmuug  of  marvelous  power.  Besides,  he 
had  bathed  in  the  fat  of  a  dragon  which  he  had  slain, 
and  was  invulnerable  except  in  a  small  spot,  between 
the  shoulders,  where  a  linden-leaf  had  fallen  upon  him 
as  he  bathed. 

The  amazon  Brunhild  fights  with  Gunther,  but  is 
really  vanquished  by  the  invisible  Siegfried.  The  lat- 
ter then  steers  to  the  land  of  the  Niblungs,  takes  pos- 
session of  a  great  treasure,  or  hoard,  which  he  had 
previously  won  in  a  fight  with  giants,  and  returns  to 
Iceland  with  a  thousand  of  ^he  Nibelungen  warriors,  as 
Gunther's  escort  when  he  carries  Brunhild  to  Worms. 
When  the  two  are  married,  Siegfried  also  receives  the 
hand  of  Chriemhild.  He  assists  Gunther  again  in  over- 
coming the  magical  strength  of  Brunhild,  and  gives 
the  amazon's  girdle  and  ring  to  his  wife,  together  with 
the  "MMnngenhorf.''  To  this  treasure  a  curse  is  at- 
tached, and  an  evil  fate  follows  its  possessor. 

Siegfried  and  Chriemhild  rule  for  ten  years  as  King 
and  Queen  of  the  Netherlands  ;  then,  with  a  large  retinue 
of  Nibelungen  warriors,  they  pay  a  visit  to  Worms,  at 
the  invitation  of  King  Gunther.     After  the  first  splen- 


112  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

did  festivities,  a  strife  for  precedence  arises  between 
Chriemliild  and  Brunhild :  the  two  queens  meet  at  the 
door  of  the  cathedral,  and  each  insists  on  entering  first. 
Brunhild  claims  that  Siegfried  is  Gunther's  vassal ; 
Chriemhild  retorts  by  asserting  that  Siegfried,  not  Gun- 
ther,  overcame  her  rival  in  Iceland,  and  produces  the  ring 
and  the  girdle  in  proof.  The  two  kings,  who  are  sum- 
moned by  their  wives,  endeavor  to  compose  the  quarrel ; 
but  the  uncle  Hagen  goes  secretly  to  Brunhild,  and 
promises  to  revenge  her.  Externally  there  is  peace 
again,  but  the  elements  of  ruin  are  at  w^ork.  Hagen 
now  goes  to  Chriemhild,  professes  to  be  a  friend,  and 
offers  to  w^atch  over  Siegfried,  in  case  Brunhild  should 
attempt  any  secret  revenge.  Chriemhild  is  deceived  by 
the  old  traitor :  she  tells  him  of  the  vulnerable  spot  on 
Siegfried's  back,  where  the  linden-leaf  lay,  and  even 
braids  an  ornament  over  the  spot  on  his  mantle,  so  that 
Hagen  may  know  where  to  ward  off  a  blow. 

The  catastrophe  instantly  follows.  Siegfried  is  taken 
out  to  hunt  by  Gunther  and  Hagen,  and  in  a  moment  of 
the  gayest  peace  and  confidence  is  treacherously  slain. 
But  Chriemhild's  woes  are  not  yet  at  an  end :  Sieg- 
fried's father  returns  in  haste  to  his  own  land :  Gunther 
persuades  his  sister  to  bring  the  '^Nihelungenhort'"  to 
Worms,  which  is  no  sooner  done  than  he  seizes  it  by 
force,  and  its  attending  curse  is  thus  transferred  to  his 
own  house.  It  is  not  long  before  the  three  brothers, 
Gunther,  Gemot  and  Geiselher,  begin  to  quarrel  about 


THE  NIBELUNGENLIED.  113 

the  treasure,  and  finally  Hagen  sinks  it  in  the  Ehine, 
making  each  take  an  oath  that  he  will  not  reveal  the 
spot  while  either  of  the  others  is  alive. 

In  the  meantime  the  count  Riicliger  comes  to  Worms 
to  solicit  Chriemhild's  hand  for  Attila.  She  hesitates, 
until  Eiidiger  hints  that  she  may  in  this  way  obtain  her 
revenge  for  Siegfried's  death  ;  then,  taking  her  brothers 
Gemot  and  Geiselher,  she  sets  out  for  the  Danube, 
reaches  the  land  of  the  Huns,  and  is  married  to  Attila. 
The  account  of  the  wedding  in  Vienna,  of  their  life  in 
Attila's  castle,  and  Chriemhild's  wise  government  are 
minutely  described  in  the  poem.  She  has  a  son  who  is 
named  Ortlieb,  she  possesses  the  entire  love  and  confi- 
dence of  Attila,  she  is  renowned  among  the  Huns  and  in 
foreign  lands,  but  the  dream  of  vengeance  never  fades 
from  her  mind.  Night  and  day  she  plans  how  to  get 
possession  of  her  uncle  Hagen,  her  brother  Gunther, 
and  the  Nibelungen  treasure.  Finally,  in  the  thirteenth 
year  of  her  marriage,  she  persuades  Attila  to  send  two 
minstrels  to  Burgundy,  and  invite  the  whole  court  to  a 
grand  high-tide,  or  festival,  in  the  land  of  the  Huns. 

Hagen  foresees  danger,  and  counsels  against  accepting 
the  invitation,  but  he  is  overruled.  I  must  here  explain 
that  the  Burgundians,  after  obtaining  the  treasure  and 
its  Nihlung  guardians,  are  thenceforth  called  ''Nihe- 
hmgen,''  and  the  poem,  from  this  point  to  the  end,  was 
called  the  "Nihehingennoth  " — need,  extremity,  or  fate. 
The  journey  to  the  Danube,  the  crossing  of  that  river 


114  GERMA^^  LITERATURE. 

and  the  arrival  of  tlie  Nibelungen  at  Attila's  Court, 
are  described  in  detail,  Avitli  great  spirit  and  pictu- 
resqueness.  It  is  evident  tliat  the  last  author  is  on  fa- 
miliar ground :  he  mentions  places  which  retain  nearly 
the  same  names  at  the  present  day.  As  the  march 
advances,  the  omens  increase  ;  even  Theodoric  appears 
and  warns  the  Nibelungen  of  their  coming  dangerc 
Hagen,  whose  part  in  these  final  lays  is  compared  by 
some  of  the  German  critics  to  that  of  Cassandra  in  the 
"  niad,"  now  becomes  grand  in  spite  of  his  treachery.  His 
fidelity  to  his  friend  Yolker,  the  minstrel,  his  courage, 
his  desperate  bravery,  his  unshaken  attitude  of  hero- 
ism, lift  him  beside  Chriemhild  into  a  splendid  tragical 
prominence,  beside  which  the  other  characters — Gun- 
ther,  Attila,  Theodoric  and  Hildebrand — sink  into  com- 
parative indistinctness.  Kiidiger,  only,  rises  into  promi- 
nence toward  the  close,  as  a  man  of  singular  honor  and 
nobility  of  nature.  But  Hagen  towers  above  all,  grim- 
mer and  grander  than  Macbeth,  in  his  defiance  of  the 
coming  doom. 

Attila,  who  knows  nothing  of  Chriemhild's  plans  of 
vengeance,  receives  the  Nibelungen  kindly,  and  sleeps 
innocently  during  the  night  when  her  armed  Huns 
are  waiting  the  opportunity  for  murder,  of  which  they 
are  deprived  by  Hagen's  watchfulness.  In  the  morn- 
ing, when  the  guests  are  dressing  for  mass  in  the 
cathedral,  Hagen  tells  them :  "  Ye  must  take  other 
garments,  ye  swordsmen,  hauberks  instead  of  silk  shirts, 


THE  NIBELUNGENLIED.  115 

shields  instead  of  mantles ;  and  now,  mj  masters  dear, 
squires  and  men  likewise,  ye  shall  most  earnestly  go  to 
church,  and  lay  before  the  high  God  your  sorrow  and 
your  dire  extremity ;  for  verily  death  is  nigh  unto  us." 
At  the  royal  feast  in  Attila's  hall,  the  strife,  instigated  by 
Chriemhild,  commences,  and  Hagen  first  strikes  off  the 
head  of  her  son,  Ortlieb.  Then  swords  are  drawn  and 
murder  is  loose.  Theodoric,  with  a  mighty  voice,  at- 
tempts to  stop  the  fray,  but  in  vain ;  then  he,  Attila 
and  Chriemhild  Avithdraw.  From  this  point  to  the  end 
all  is  movement  and  passion ;  every  incident  is  illu- 
minated as  by  a  fierce  crimson  light.  No  mere  outline 
can  do  it  the  least  justice.  The  Huns  press  into  the 
hall,  and  all  night  there  is  naught  but  carnage,  fire  and 
the  terrible  noise  of  fighting.  At  last  all  are  slain  but 
Hagen  and  Gunther,  both  sorely  wounded.  They  are 
bound  by  Theodoric,  whose  warriors,  except  Hildebrand, 
have  shared  the  common  fate,  and  are  then  brought 
before  Chriemhild,  who  demands  to  know  where  they 
have  sunk  the  ^'NibdungenJiorf  Hagen  answers  that 
he  cannot  tell  while  Gunther  lives.  The  latter  is  instantly 
slain,  and  then  the  fierce  old  uncle  says :  "  Now  none 
knoweth  of  the  hoard  but  God  and  I,  and  from  thee,  she- 
devil,  shall  it  be  forever  hidden!  "  Thereupon  Chriem- 
hild seizes  his  own  sword — the  famous  sword  Balmung, 
which  had  once  belonged  to  Siegfried — and  strikes  off 
his  head.  Attila  laments  his  fate,  but  Hildebrand — 
the  hero  of  the  "Hildebrandsliecr' — slays  the  avenging 


116 


GERMAN  LITERATURE. 


Chriemliild,   and   the   poem  closes,   after  this  terrible 
night  of  slaughter,  with  these  stanzas  : 


Hildebrant    mit    zorne     |      zuo 

Kriemhilde  spranc, 
er  sluoc  der  Kiineginne  |  einen 

swaeren  swertes  swanc. 

ja  tet  ir  diu  sorge  |  von  Hilde- 

brande  we, 
waz  molite  si  gehelfen    |    daz  si 

so  griizliclien  sere  ? 

D6  was  gelegen  aller  |    da  der 

reigen  lip. 
ze  stticken  was  geliouwen    |    do 

daz  edele  wip. 
Dietrich  und  Etzel  |  weinen  do 

began  : 
si   klageten   innecliclie   |    beidin 

mage  unde  man. 

Diu  vil  michel  ere  |  was  da  gele- 
gen tot. 

die  liute  beten  alle  [  jamer  unde 

not. 
mit  leide  was  verendet  |  des  Kii- 

niges  bobgezit, 
als  je   diu  liebe  leide    |    z'aller 

jtingiste  git. 

I'ne  kan  iu  niht  besclieiden,  | 
waz  sider  da  gescbacb: 

wan  ritter  unde  vrouwen  )  wei- 
nen man  da  sacb, 

dar  zuo  die  edelen  knebte,    |    ir 
lieben  friunde  tot. 

hie  hat  daz  maere  ein  ende :  ]  daz 
ist  der  Nibelunge  not. 


Then  Hildebrand  in  fury  |  to 
Chriemhild  did  go, 

And  struck  the  queen  with  fal- 
chion I  a  sore  and  heavy 
blow ; 

Of  Hildebrand  her  terror  |  was 
more  than  she  could  hide. 

But  nothing  did  it  help  her  |  that 
there  so  miserably  she  cried. 

Now  slain  were  all  that  should 

be,  I  they  lay  without  en  life. 
And  she  was  hewn  to  pieces,  | 

and  dead,  that  royal  wife ; 
Theodoric  and  Attila  |  a  weeping 

then  began ; 
Sore   was  the  lamentation    |    of 

maiden  and  of  man. 

Ah,  how  much  was  the  splen- 
dor I  which  there  lay  dead 
and  cold ! 

And  fell  on  all  the  people  |  dis- 
tress and  woe  untold ; 

In  sorrow  thus  was  ended  |  the 
high -tide  of  the  King, 

As  after  joy  comes  always  |  some 
sad  and  cruel  thing. 

I  cannot  tell  you  further  |  what 
happened  of  the  tale, 

Except  that  knights  and  ladies  | 
were  seen  to  weep  and  wail. 

And  eke  the  gallant  swords- 
man, I  whose  dearest  friends 
lay  low. 

And  here  the  story  endeth:  |  this 
is  the  Nibelungen  woe. 


TEE  NIBELUNGENLIED.  117 

Even  from  the  very  brief  sketches  of  the  courtly  epics 
which  I  have  given,  you  will  be  able  to  recognize  how 
strongly  the  ^^ Nihelungenlied''  contrasts  with  them  in 
plan,  character  and  expression.  The  strong,  large  fea- 
tures of  the  old  legends,  both  Gothic  and  Scandinavian, 
still  look  upon  us  from  its  lines ;  something  of  the  rude- 
ness, but  also  the  power,  of  the  early  Bardic  songs  is 
felt  in  its  measures ;  the  Christian  faith  has  been  added, 
it  is  true,  but  without  changing  in  any  way  the  pagan 
virtues  and  vices  of  the  original  characters.  Siegfried 
and  Hagen  are  made  of  other  flesh  and  blood  than  the 
love-stricken  Tristan  or  the  pure-souled  Parzival.  There 
are  no  fair  descriptions  of  nature,  no  expressions  of 
sentiment  or  emotion  beyond  the  most  necessary  utter- 
ances. When  Siegfried  is  treacherously  slain,  he  only 
says :  "  I  lament  nothing  upon  the  earth  except  Frau 
Chriemhild,  my  wife."  "  In  poetry,"  says  a  critic,  "  the 
rude  man  requires  only  to  see  something  going  on ;  the 
man  of  a  more  refined  nature  wishes  to  feel ;  while  the 
man  of  the  highest  culture  asks  that  he  shall  be  made  to 
reflect."  The  "Nibdungenlied"  fulfills  the  first  of  tliese 
conditions  to  the  utmost :  there  is  action,  much  of  it  of 
the  most  tremendous  character,  from  beginning  to  end; 
and  the  stage,  vast  as  it  is,  is  always  crowded  Avith  per- 
sons. But  the  second  condition  is  not  entirely  neglected 
in  the  poem,  as  we  now  have  it.  The  genius  who 
moulded  all  its  alien  elements  into  such  a  grand  unity 
may  very  well  have  added  those  slight,  almost  uncon- 


118 


GERM  AX  LITERATURE. 


scions  touches  wliicli  constantly  aj)j)eal  to  our  sympathy. 
Indeed  the  latter  effect  is  most  frequently  produced 
where  it  is  not  planned  beforehand,  as  we  have  seen  in 
Hildebrand's  words  to  his  son  Hadubrand,  before  they 
fight. 

The  action  of  the  thirty-nine  Avenf lures  is  so  continu- 
ous and  so  rich  in  details,  that  it  is  somewhat  difficult 
to  find  brief  illustrative  passages.  We  must  be  satisfied 
with  three  specimens,  not  better  than  many  others  in 
the  poem,  but  more  easily  detached  from  the  context : 
the  first  is  the  meeting  of  Chriemhild  and  Sieg- 
fried, after  the  latter  has  defeated  the  Saxons  and 
Danes : 


Do   hiez   der  kiinec  riclie  {  mit 

siner  swester  gan, 
die  ir  dieuen  solden,  ]  wol  huu- 

dert  siner  man, 
ir  und  siner  mage  :  |  die  truogen 

swert  euhant. 
daz  was  daz  liovegesinde   |  von 

der  Biirgonden  lant. 


Then  ordered  for  Ms  sister  |  the 

King  so  rich  and  proud, 
A  hundred  men  of  battle  |  unto 

her  service  vowed. 
For  her  and  for  her  mother,  |  a 

sword  in  every  hand  : 
Such  were  the  royal  servants  |  in 

the  Burgundian  land. 


Nu  gie  diu  niinnecliche   |    als6 
der  morgenrot 

tuot  uz  den  triieben  wolken.  |  da 
sciet  von  maneger  not 

der  se  da  truog  in  herzen  |  und 

lange  het  getan  : 
er  sach   die   minneclichen   |  nu 

vil  herlichen  stan. 


There  came  the  fair  and  lova- 
ble I  as  comes  the  morning- 
glow 

From  clouds  that  would  obscure 
it.  I  And  gone  was  many  a 
woe 

From  him  who  in  his  bosom   j 
had  yearned  for  her  so  long  : 

He  saw  her  stand  before  him  | 
in  beauty  bright  and  strong. 


THE  NIBELUNGENLIED. 


119 


Ja  luhte  ir  von  ir  waete    |    vil 

manec  edel  stein  : 
ir    rosenrotiu  varwe  |   vil  min- 

necliclien  scein. 
ob  iemen   wiiuscen   solde,  |  der 

kunde  niht  gejehen 
daz   er  ze   dirre   werelde  |  liete 

iht  scoeners  gesehen. 


Upon    Iter   garment   sparkled  | 
full  many  a  jewel -stone  ; 

Her    rosiness     of     color    |    like 
parest  love-light  shone. 

Whatever  one  might  hope  for, 
I  yet  now  he  must  confess 

That  here  on  Earth  could  noth- 
ing I  surpass  her  loveliness. 


Sam  der  liehte  mane 
sternen  stat. 


vor  den 


des   scin   so  luterliche  |  ab  den 

wolken  gat, 
dem  stuont   si  nu  geliche  |  vor 

maneger  frouwen  guot. 
des  wart  da  wol  gehoebet  |  den 

zieren  heleden  der  muot. 


Even  as  the  shining  full-moon 
I    comes     out    before     the 

stars, 
So  pure  in  powerful  lustre  |  it 

melts  the  cloudy  bars. 
So  verily  she  in  beauty  |  before 

all  ladies  there  : 
And  all  the  gay  young  heroes  | 

were  proud  to  see  her  fair. 


Die  richen  kameraere  |  sah  man 

vor  in  gan. 
die  hohgemuoten  degene  [  die  'n 

wolden  daz  niht  Ian, 

sine  drungen  da  sie  sahen  |  die 

minneclichen  meit. 
Sivride  dem  herren  |  wart  beide 

lieb  tinde  leit. 


Court- servants  made  a  passage, 

I  in  glittering  array. 
The  strong,  courageous  swords- 
men   I    followed    upon  her 
way  ; 
And  ever  pressed  and  crowded 

I  to  see  the  maiden  go. 
Now  this  was  unto  Siegfried  |  a 
joy  and  yet  a  woe. 


Er  dahte  in  sinem  muote  :  |  "wie 
kunde  daz  ergan 

daz  icli  dich  minnen  solde  ?  |  daz 

ist  ein  tumber  wan. 
sol  aber  ich  dich  vreraeden,  |  s6 

waere  ich  sanfter  tot," 
er  wart  von  den   gedauken  |  vil 

dicke  bleich  unde  rot. 


Within  his  thought  he  ponder- 
ed: I  "  How  thought  I,  I  was 
fain 

With  love  of  man  to  woo  thee  ? 
I  It  is  a  fancy  vain  : 

And  yet,  should  I  avoid  thee,  |  so 
were  I  earlier  dead." 

He  grew,  while  thus  a-thinking, 
I  oft  pale,  and  then  how 
often  red  I 


120 


GERMAX  LITER  A  TURE. 


Do  stuont   so  minnecliclie  |  daz 

Sigemundes  kint, 
saiii  er  entworfen  waere  |  an  ein 

perinint 
von  guotes  meisters  listen,  |  als 

man  ime  jach, 
daz  man  helt  deheinen  |  nie  so 

scoenen  gesacli. 


Tliej  saw  tlie  son  of  Sieglind,  | 
lover-like  standing  there. 

As  if  he  had  been  painted,  j  on 
parchment  clear  and  fair. 

By  hand  of  some  good  master  : 
I  'twas  pleasant  him  to  see. 

For  none  so  grand  a  hero  |  be- 
held before  as  he. 


Do  sprach  von  Burgonden 
herre  Gemot  : 


der 


der  iu   sinen  dienest  |  so  gliet- 

lichen  hot,    • 
Gunther,   yil   lieber  bruoder,  | 

dem  suit  ir  tuon  alsam 
vor  alien  dis en  recken  :  |  des  rats 

ich  nimmer  mich  gescam. 


Then  swiftly  spake   Lord   Ger- 

not,    I    of   the    Burgundian 

land: 
To   him  who  did   us  service  | 

with  such  a  mighty  hand, 
To  him,  dear  brother  Gunther, 

I  now  offer  fitting  pay 
In  presence  of  the  warriors :  | 

no  man  will  scorn  my  say. 


Ir  heizet  Sivreden  |  zuo    miner 

s wester  kumen, 
daz  in  diu  maget  grueze  :  |  des 

habe  wir  immer  f  rumen. 

diu  nie  gegruozte  recken,  |  diu 
sol  in  griiezen  ptiegen  : 

da  mite  wir  haben  gewunnen  | 
den  vil  zierlichen  degen." 


Summon  straightway  Siegfried 

I  unto  our  sister  pure, 
That  so  the  maiden  greet  him  : 
I  'twill   bring  us  luck,  be 
sure  ! 
She  who  never  greeted  heroes  | 

shall  grace  to  him  award. 
And  thereby  we  shall  win  us  | 
the  service  of  his  sword." 


Do  giengen  's  wirtes  mage 
man  den  helt  vant. 


da 


si   sprachen  zuo  dem   recken  | 

uzer  Niderlant  : 
iu  hat    der  kiinec   erloubet,  |  ir 

suit  ze  hove  gan, 
sin  swester  sol  inch  griiezen  :  | 

daz  ist  zen  eren  iu  getau. " 


The  King's  friends,  then  ad- 
vancing I  where  the  hero 
still  did  stand, 

Spake  to  the  mighty  warrior  | 
from  out  the  Netherland  : 

The  King's  will  hath  permitted 
I  that  you  to  court  repair  ; 

His  sister  there  shall  greet  you  : 
I  this  honor  shall  be  your 
share." 


THE  NIBELUNQENLIEB, 


121 


Der  herre  in  sinem  muote  |  was 

des  vil  gemeit. 
d6    truog   er   ime    lierzen  |  lieb 

ane  leit, 
daz  er  sehen  solte  |  der  scoenen 

Uoten  kint. 

mit  minneclichen  tugenden  |  si 
gruozte  Sivriden  sint. 


The   hero,   gentle-hearted,  |  re- 
joiced to  hear  the  word  ; 

Love,  free  of  doubt  or  torment, 
I  in  all  his  senses  stirred. 

With  hope  that  Ute's  daughter, 
I  the   fair  one,   he   should 
see  : 

And  she  with  gentle  glances  | 
received  Siegfried  full  cour- 
teously. 


Do  si  den  hohgemuoten  |  vor  ir 
stende  sach, 

do  erzunde  sicli  sin  varwe.  [  diu 
scoene  magt  sprach  : 

sit  willekomen,  her  Sivrit,  |  ein 
edel  ritter  guot." 

do  wart  ini  von  dem  gruoze  |  vil 
wol  gehoehet  der  niuot. 


But  when  before  her  standing  | 

she     saw     him     bold    and 

proud, 
Like   flame   her   color  kindled  ; 

I  the  Fair  One  spake  aloud  : 
Be  welcome  here.  Sir  Siegfried, 

I  a  noble  knight  and  true  ! " 
And  he  from  such  a  greeting  |  a 

higher  courage  drew. 


Er  neig  ir  flizecliche  ;  |  bi  der 

hende  si  in  vie. 
wie  rehteminnecliche  |  erbider 

f rouwen  gie  [ 

mit   lieben   ougen   blicken  |  ein 
ander  sahen  an 

der  herre  und  ouch  diu  f  rouwe  : 
I  daz   wart    vil   tougenlich 
getan. 


He  bowed  to  her  full  gently,  |  to 

thank  her  for  her  rede. 
Then  drew  them  towards  each 

other  I  love's   yearning  and 

its  need  ; 
With     eyes    that    shone    more 

fondly  I  each  then  the  other 

spied. 
The  hero  and  the  maiden  :  |  that 

glance  they  strove  to  hide. 


Wart  iht  da  friwentliche  |  get- 

wungen  wiziu  hant, 
von  herzen  lieber  minne,  |  daz 

ist  mir  niht  bekant. 


6 


If  then  some  softer  pressure  | 
on  her  white  hand  might  be. 

Love's  first  and  heart -sweet 
token—  I  it  is  unknown  to 
me. 


122 


GERMAN  LITERATURE. 


doch  enkan  ich  nilit  gelouben  | 

daz  ez  wnrde  Ian  : 
si  liet  im  liolden  willen  |  kunt 

vil  sciere  getan. 


But  yet  believe  I  cannot  ]  fhat 

they  did  not  do  so  ; 
For  hearts  of  love    desirous  | 

were  wrong  to  let  it  go. 


Bi  der  sumerzite  ]  und  gein  des 

meijen  tagen 
dorft    er  in  sime  herzen  |  nim- 

mer  mer  getragen 
so  vil  der  hohen  vreude  |  denn' 

er  del  gewan, 
do  im  diu  gie  enliende  |  die  er  ze 

trute  wolde  ban. 


In  tbe  days  of  summer  ]  and  in 

the  time  of  May, 
He  never  in  bis  bosom  |  again 

might  bear  away 
So  much  of  highest  rapture  | 

as  in  that  hour  he  knew. 
Seeing  her  walk  beside  him,  | 

whom  he  so  wished  to  woo. 


Bo  gedahte  manec recke :  |  "hey 
waer'  mir  sam  gescehen, 

daz  ich  ir  gienge  enhende,  |  sam 

ich  in  ban  gesehen, 
oder  bi  ze  ligene  !  |  daz  liez'  ich 

ane  haz." 
ez  gediente  noch  nie  recke  ]  nach 

einer  kiineginne  baz. 


Then  thought  many  a  swords- 
man :  —  I  "  Ha  !  if  I  were 
but  thou 

And  1  could   walk  beside  her  { 
as  I  see  thee  now, 

Or,  perhaps,  embrace  her —  |  I 
were  ready,  sure  ! " 

Never   served    a   swordsman    | 
queen  so  good  and  pure. 


Von  swelher  kiinege  lande  |  die 

geste  komen  dar, 
die  namen  al  geliche  |  niwan  ir 

zweier  war. 
ir  wart   erloubet    kiissen  |  den 

waetlichen  man  : 
im    wart    in    dirre    werlde  |  nie 

so  liebe  getan. 


And  from  whatever  country  |  a 

guest  was  present  there. 
In  the  high  hall  was  nothing  | 

he  looked  on  but  this  pair. 
To  her  it  was  permitted   |  the 

gallant  man  to  kiss  : 
In  all  his  life  he  never  |  knew 

aught  so  dear  as  this. 


Der   Kiinec     von    Tenemarke  | 
der  sprach  sa  zestunt  : 

diss  vil  hohen  gruozes  |  lit  man- 
eger  ungesunt. 


Began  the  King  of  Denmark,  | 

and    these     the    words    he 

spake  : 
Sure,    such  a  noble  greeting  | 

here   many  a  wound  doth 

make  : 


THE  NrBELUNGENLIED. 


123 


des  icli  vil  wol   enpfinde,  |  von 

Sivrides  hant. 
got    enlaze   in   nimmer  mere  | 

komen     in    miniu    kiinges 

lant." 


As  I  around  me  notice,  |  and  all 
from  Siegfried's  hand  : 

God  grant  he  never  travel  |  into 
my  Danish  land." 


Tlie  whole  chapter  entitled  "How  Siegfried  was  slain," 
is  an  admirable  j^iece  of  narrative,  gay,  bright,  full  of 
joyous  action,  until  the  hero  is  treacherously  struck, 
when  it  becomes  as  simple  as  if  told  by  a  child.  These 
are  the  concluding  verses : 


"  Ir  mtiget  iucli  lihte  riiemen, 
sprach  do  Sifrit. 


''  bet  ich  an   iu   erkennet 
mortliclien  sit. 


den 


ich  hete   wol  behalten  vor  iu  | 

nimen  lip. 
mich   riuwet   nilit   so  sere  |  s6 

vrou  Kriemhilt  min  wip. 


You  may  lightly  boast,"  said 
Siegfried  |  of  the  Nether- 
land, 

But  had  I  known  your  purpose, 
I  against    your    murderous 
hand 

Had  I  full  well  protected  |  my 
body  and  my  life  : 

On  earth  I  grieve  for  nothing  | 
but   Dame   Chriemhild,  my 
wife. 


"  Nu  miieze  got  erbarmen  |  deich  ' 
ie  gewan  den  sun 
dem  man  daz  itewizen  |  sol  nah 

den  ziten  tuon 
daz  sine  mage  iemen  |  mortliche 

han  erslagen, 
moht'  ich,"   so  sprach  Sifrit,  | 
"  daz  sold'  ich  pilliche  klagen." 


Do  sprach  vil  jaemerliche 
verchwunde  man  : 


der 


welt   ir,    kiinic   edele,  |  triuwen 
iht  began 


May  also  God  take  pity  |  on  the 

boy  I  leave  behind. 
Who  in  all  time  henceforward  | 

must  hear  the  taunt  unkind, 
That  his  own  friends  his  father 

I  have  murderously  slain. 
If  I  had   time,  with    justice  |  I 

might  of  that  complain." 

Then  mournfully  spake  fur- 
ther I  the  hero  nigh  to 
death  : 

0  noble  King,  if  ever  |  ye  drew 
a  faithful  breath, 


124 


OERMAK  LITERATURE. 


in  der  werlt  an  iemen,  [  lat  iu 

bevolhen  sin 
uf    iuwer  genade    |    die   lieben 

triutinue  min. 


If  ever  kept  ye  pledges,  ]  I  do 

entreat  ye  here 
To  hold  in  grace  and  pity  |  my 

sweetheart  fair  and  dear. 


Und  lat  si  des  geniezen  ]  daz  si 

iuwer  swester  si. 
durch   aller   fiirsten    tugende  | 

wont  ir  mit  triuwen  bi. 
mir  miiezen  warten  lange  |  min 

vater  und  mine  man. 
ez  enwart  nie  vrouwen  leider  | 

an  liebem  vriunde  getan." 


Let  it  to  her  be  profit  |  that  she's 
your  sister  still : 

For  every  princely  virtue  |  com- 
mands your  faithful  will. 

For  me  my  land  and  father  |  will 
long  and  vainly  wait : 

Never  met  any  woman  |  from  a 
dear  spouse  such  bitter 
fate." 


Die  bluomen  allenthalben  |  von 

bluote  waren  naz. 
do  rang  er  mit  dem  tode  :  |  un- 

lange  tet  er  daz, 

want  des  todes  waf  en  |  ie  ze  sere 

sneit. 
do  mohte  reden  niht  mere  |  der 

recke  klien'  unt  gemeit. 


The  blossoms  all  around  him  | 
wet  with  his  blood  became : 

With  death  he  fiercely  strug- 
gled, I  not  long  he  did  the 
same  ; 

The  sword  of  death  was  on  him  | 
and  cut  him  very  sore  ; 

And   soon   the   noble   warrior  | 
could  speak  a  word  no  more. 


D6  die  herren  sahen  |  daz   der 
helt  was  tot, 

si  leiten  in  uf  einen  schilt,  |  der 

was  von  golde  rot, 
und  wurden  des   ze   rate,  |  wie 

daz  solde  ergan 
daz  man  ez  verhaele  |  daz  ez  het 

Hagene  getan. 


Now  when  the  lords  beheld 
there  |  the  hero  pale  and 
cold, 

Upon  a  shield  they  laid  him,  | 
the  which  was  red  with  gold. 

Then   they  began  to   counsel  | 
how  further  to  proceed, 

That  none  would  learn  the  se- 
cret I  that  Hagen  did  the 
deed. 


D6  sprachen  ir  genuoge  :  |  "  uns 
ist  iibele  geschehen. 

ir  suit  ez  heln  alle  j  unt  suit  gel- 
iche  jehen, 


After  this  wise  spake  many  :  ( 
"An  evil  thing  is  done. 

We'll  hide  it  with  a  story,  |  and 
all  shall  sav,  as  one. 


THE  NIBELUNGENLIED. 


125 


da    er    rite    jagen    eine,     |    der 

Kriemliilde  man, 
in    sliiegen    scachaere,   |   da   er 

fiiere  durcli  den  tan." 

Do    sprach    von    Tronege     Ha- 

gene  :  |  '  *  ich  bringe'n  in  daz 

lant. 
mir  ist  vil  unmaere,  ]  und  wirt 

ez  ir  bekant', 
diu  so  liat  betriibet  |  den  Priin- 

liilde  muot. 
ez  alitet  mich  vil  ringe,  |  swaz 

si  weinens  getuot." 


As  he  alone  rode  hunting,  |  this 
son  of  Siegmund's  line. 

The  ruffian  robbers  slew  him  | 
among  the  woods  of  pine.  '* 

Then  spake  von  Troneg  Hagen :  ( 

' '  Him    home    myself     will 

bear. 
And  if  she  learn  who  did  it,  j 

for  that  I  shall  not  care. 
Yea,  she  that  vexed  Brunhilde  | 

before  the  people's  eves. 
It  will  concern  me  little  |  if  now 

she  weeps  and  cries. " 


For  the  third  specimen,  I  will  take  a  passage  which 
Mr.  Carlyle  has  translated.  When  the  Nibelungen  come 
to  the  Danube,  on  their  way  to  the  Court  of  Attila  and 
Chriemhild,  they  are  at  a  loss  how  to  cross  the  river. 
Hagen  learns  from  the  mermaids  where  to  find  the  fer- 
ryman, and  is  ordered  by  them  to  call  himself  Amelrich, 
or  he  will  not  be  allowed  to  enter  the  boat.  When  this 
has  taken  place,  however,  and  the  ferryman  sees  that  it 
is  not  Amelrich  whom  he  has  taken  on  board,  he  wrath- 
fuUy  orders  Hagen  to  leap  on  shore  again : 


Nune  tuot  des  niht,"  sprach  Ha- 
gene  ;  |  "trurec  ist  min  muot, 

nemet  von  mir  ze  minne  |  ditze 
golt  vil  guot. 

unt  fiiert  uns  liber  tusent  ross  | 

unt  also  manigen  man." 
do  sprach.  der  grimme  verge  :  [ 
"daz  wirdet  nimmer  getiln." 


Now  say  not  that, "  spake  Hagen ; 
I  "  Right  hard  am  I  bested. 

Take  from  me,  for  good  friend- 
ship, I  this  clasp  of  gold  so 
red  ; 

And  row  our  thousand  heroes  | 
and  steeds  across  this  river." 

Then  spake  the  wrathful  boat- 
man, I  "  That  will  I  surely 
never." 


126 


GERMAN  LITERATURE. 


Er  huop   ein  starkes   ruoder,  | 

micliel  uncle  breit, 
er  sluoc  ez  iif  Hagenen,    |    (des 

wart  er  ungemeit), 
daz  er  in  dem  scliifiFe   |    struchte 

uf  siniu  knie. 
so  rehte  grimmer  verge    |    kom 

dem  Tronegaere  nie. 


Then  one  of  his  oars  lie  lifted,  | 

right  broad  it  was  and  long, 
He  struck  it  down  on  Hagen,  | 

did  the  hero  mickle  wrong. 
That  in  the  boat  he  staggered,  | 

and  alighted  on  his  knee  ; 
Other  such  wrathful  boatman  | 

did  never  the  Troneger  see. 


D6  wolde  er  baz  erziimen   |   den 
iibenniieten  gast : 

er  sluoc  eine  schalten,  |  daz  diu 
gar  zerbrast, 

Hagenen  uber  daz  houbet :   |   er 
was  ein  starker  man. 

da  von  der  Elsen  verge  |  grozen 
schaden  da  gewan. 


Mit  grimmegem  muote    ]    greif 

Hagene  zehant 
vil  balde  z'einer  scheiden,    |    da 

er  ein  wafen  vant, 

er  sluoc  im  ab  daz  houbet  |  und 
warf  ez  an  den  grunt. 

diu  maere  wurden  schiere  |  den 
stolzen  Burgonden  kunt. 


His  proud  unbidden  guest  |  he 
would  now  provoke  still 
more  ; 

He  struck  his  head  so  stoutly  | 
that  it  broke  in  twain  the 
oar, 

With  strokes  on  head  of  Ha- 
gen ;  !  he  was  a  sturdy 
wight : 

Nathless  had  G  elf  rat's  boat- 
man I  small  profit  of  that 
fight. 

With  fiercely-raging  spirit  |  the 
Troneger  turned  him  round, 

Clutch'd  quick  enough  his  scab- 
bard, I  and  a  weapon  there 
he  found ; 

He  smote  his  head  from  off 
him,  I  and  cast  it  on  the 
sand: 

Thus  had  that  wrathful  boat- 
man I  his  death  from  Ha^ 
gen's  hand.  ^ 


These  passages,  I  am  aware,  will  not  avail  to  give  an 
adequate  representation  of  tlie  whole  tone  and  atmo- 
sphere of  the  poem.  The  attractiye  quaintness  and 
artlessness  of  the  old  dialect,  with  its  many  curious 


THE  yiBELUNGENLIEB.  127 

idiomatic  jjlirases,  cannot  be  j^i'sserved  in  our  modern 
English,  any  more  than  the  same  fresh  and  racy  flavor 
which  we  find  in  the  older  English  of  Chancer  and  Sj)en- 
ser.  Neither  can  the  mere  skeleton  of  the  story,  as  I 
have  been  forced  by  want  of  sj^ace  to  give  it,  do  justice 
to  the  many  touches  which  constantly  soften  its  gather- 
ing chronicles. of  slaughter.  When  Kiidiger,  who  obeys 
Attila's  command  with  a  heavy  heart,  and  goes  with  his 
warriors  to  attack  the  Nibelungen  in  the  fatal  banquet- 
hall,  gives  his  own  shield  to  Hagen,  to  replace  that 
which  has  been  hacked  to  pieces,  we  are  told  that 
"many  cheeks  were  red  with  weeping."  Gemot  and 
Geiselher  beg  Queen  Chriemhild  to  spare  their  lives, 
for  they  were  all  nursed  by  one  mother ;  but  when  she 
promises  to  do  so  if  only  Hagen,  the  murderer  of  Sieg- 
fried, be  given  up,  the  gallant  Kings  answer :  "  That  can 
never  be."  There  is  the  phantom  of  an  implacable  Fate 
behind  all  those  dreadful  deeds  :  the  kings  and  warriors 
clearly  see  the  coming  doom,  and  they  meet  it  like 
heroes.  At  the  close,  we  have  forgotten  the  perfidy  of 
Hagen,  the  fury  of  Chriemhild,  the  meanness  of  Gun- 
ther,  the  weakness  of  Attila,  and  are  ready  to  join  in 
that  general  lamentation  which  indiscriminately  mourns 
all  the  slain. 

If  the  historical  tradition  of  the  Burgundian  King 
Gundicar  and  his  ten  thousand  warriors  falling  before 
Attila's  march  into  France,  be  the  exaggerated  form  of 
an  actual  occurrence,  this  may  be  one  of  the  bases  of  the 


128  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

" Nibelungenlied.'"  The  other  and  earlier  basis  is  Scan- 
dinavian saga,  not  history, — or  history  in  mythological 
disguise.  The  only  other  facts  are  that  Attila's  first  wife, 
named  Herka,  is  certainly  the  Halke  of  the  epic ;  while 
an  ancient  Hungarian  chronicle,  of  somewhat  doubtful 
character,  speaks  of  his  second  wdfe  as  Kriemheilch. 
Theodoric  and  Hildebrand  are  anachronisms,  not  to  be 
explained  by  the  supj)osition  that  the  former  is  intended 
for  the  Visigoth,  Theodoric  I.  This  is  the  slender  root 
of  fact  to  which  hangs  the  wonderful  growth  of  so  many 
centuries. 

If  I  have  not  been  able  to  prove  it  to  you,  in  this  brief 
space,  I  trust  that  I  have  at  least  indicated  why  the 
^^ Nihelimgenlied'^  may  be  one  of  the  most  remarkable 
poems  ever  written.  It  is  one  of  the  oldest  epics  of  our 
race.  But  when  the  enthusiastic  German  scholar  calls 
it  a  Gothic  Iliad,  he  uses  an  epithet  which  only  confuses 
our  ideas.  It  has  neither  the  unity  nor  the  nobility  of 
style  which  we  find  in  Homer.  There  is  the  same  dif- 
ference as  between  a  Druid  circle  of  huge  granite  boul- 
ders, although  overgrown  with  ivy  and  wild  blossoms 
and  encircled  by  a  forest  of  Northern  pine,  and  a  sym- 
metrical marble  temple  on  a  sunny  headland  beside  the 
blue  sea.  The  world  has  fallen  into  a  bad  habit  of  nam- 
ing everything  after  something  else.  Let  us  call  the 
Greek  epic  the  "Iliad,''  and  the  old  German  epic  of  the 
people  nothing  else  but  the  "Nilielnngenlied" 

In  regard  to  that  unknown  man,  whose  genius,  in  the 


THE  NIBELUNGENLIED.  129 

thirteenth  century,  sealed  and  transmitted  to  us  the 
precious  inheritance,  I  cannot  do  better  than  repeat 
Carlyle's  words :  "  His  great  strength  is  an  unconscious, 
instinctive  strength ;  wherein  truly  lies  his  highest  merit. 
The  whole  sjoirit  of  Chivalry,  of  Love  and  heroic  Yalor 
must  have  lived  in  him  and  inspired  him.  Everywhere 
he  shows  a  noble  sensibility ;  the  sad  accents  of  parting 
friends,  the  lamentings  of  w^omen,  the  high  daring  of 
men,  all  that  is  worthy  and  lovely  prolongs  itself  in 
melodious  echoes  through  his  heart.  A  true  old  Singer, 
and  taught  of  Nature  herself !  Neither  let  us  call  him 
an  inglorious  Milton,  since  now  he  is  no  longer  a  mute 
one.  What  good  were  it  that  the  four  or  five  letters 
composing  his  name  could  be  printed,  and  pronounced 
with  absolute  certainty?  All  that  is  mortal  in  him  is 
gone  utterly :  of  his  life,  and  its  environment,  as  of  the 
bodily  tabernacle  he  dwelt  in,  the  very  ashes  remain 
not :  like  a  fair,  heavenly  Apparition,  which  indeed  he 
ivas,  he  has  melted  into  air,  and  only  the  Voice  he 
uttered,  in  virtue  of  its  inspired  gift,  yet  lives  and  will 
live." 

It  is  difficult  to  ascertain,  at  this  distance  of  time, 
whether  any  stimulus  was  given  to  the  popular  forms 
of  poetry  in  the  twelfth  and  thirteenth  centuries  by  the 
poetry  of  the  courts ;  but  the  latter  certainly  gave  license 
^-which,  in  literature,  is  life, — to  the  former.  The  same 
phenomena,  of  course,  would  be  found  in  both  circles. 
Even  as  the  renown  of  Walther,  Wolfram,  Gottfried  and 
6* 


130  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

Hartmanu  would  call  into  life  a.  host  of  inferior  min- 
strels, so  the  popularity  of  the  "Mbelungenlied''  would 
inspire  imitations,  ri^^al  epics,  based,  like  itself,  on  older 
lays,  and  even  fanciful  continuations  of  the  same  story. 
Many  of  these  still  remain,  but  I  can  only  mention  a 
single  one  of  them — "  The  Lament,"  which  some  consider 
to  be  of  earlier  origin  than  the  latest  form  of  the  "Nihe- 
limgen.''  It  commences  where  the  latter  terminates 
— in  the  castle  of  Attila,  among  the  corpses  left  by  the 
great  slaughter.  It  is  written  in  the  short  couplet,  which 
we  have  already  met  in  ''Tristan'  and  ''ParzivaJ,'"  and 
the  inferiority  of  which  to  the  Nibelungen  verse  we  feel 
more  clearly  than  ever,  if  we  take  it  up  immediately  after 
the  latter.  It  is  a  weaker  hand,  which  endeavors  to  ex- 
press that  woe  which  the  master  only  dared  to  indicate ; 
but  there  is  one  really  touching  passage,  where  Theo- 
doric  calls  upon  the  j^^ople  to  cease  from  weeping, 
through  God's  help ;  and  the  author  says :  "  as  much  as 
they  promised  it  to  him,  yet  did  they  not  do  it."  When 
the  dead  have  all  been  lamented,  the  minstrel  Schwem- 
mel  is  sent  as  a  messenger,  to  bear  the  news  to  Worms. 
Frau  Ute,  the  mother  of  the  three  Kings  and  Chriem- 
hild,  dies  of  sorrow :  the  amazon  Brunhild  falls  sense- 
less ;  and  the  young  Siegfried,  her  son  and  Gunther's, 
is  proclaimed  King  of  the  Nibelungen. 

Of  the  other  epics  or  epical  fragments  which  have 
been  saved,  I  will  only  mention  "Gudrun,''  as  the  most 
complete  in  form,  and  the  next  in  literary  character, 


THE  mSELUNOENLIED.  131 

after  the  '' Nibelungenlied"  The  subject,  however,  be- 
longs to  a  different  sagenkrels,  or  legendary  circle :  the 
scene  is  laid  alternately  in  Ireland,  Wales  and  on  the 
Saxon  shores  of  the  North  Sea.  The  same  subject  has 
very  recently  been  used  by  a  living  poet,  Mr.  William 
Morris,  in  "  The  Lovers  of  Gudrun," — one  of  the  narra- 
tives in  his  "  Earthly  Paradise."  This  circumstance,  at 
least,  may  increase  your  curiosity  to  explore  a  field  of 
literature  so  long  forgotten  to  Germany,  and  even  now 
almost  unknown  to  the  very  race  whose  civilization 
flowed  from  the  same  original  fountain.  If  we,  as 
Americans,  in  the  national  sense,  have  an  equal  share  in 
Shakespeare,  Spenser  and  Chaucer,  with  our  English 
brethren,  so  the  Gothic  and  Saxon  blood  in  our  veins 
claims  the  inheritance  of  the  "SildebrandsUed "  and 
the  early  Nibelungen  legends  as  fully  as  the  German 
people. 

I  have  not  now  time  to  repeat  the  story  of  Gudrun 
and  her  lovers,  of  her  brother  Ortwin,  and  her  betrothed, 
Herwig,  of  her  captivity,  and  her  hard  service  as  a 
washerwoman  by  the  sea-shore,  of  the  fierce  battle  which 
released  her,  the  joy  of  her  mother  Hilde,  and  the  mar- 
riage of  all  the  principal  characters,  which  happily 
closes  the  thirty-two  Aventinres  of  the  poem.  Its  char- 
acter seems  almost  idyllic  when  contrasted  with  the 
tragedy  of  the  '' Nihelungenlied.''  Perhaps  this  distinc- 
tion may  be  felt^  in  the  single  quotation  which  I  shall 
give,  where   Horant,  the  "  storm-eagle "   of   Denmark, 


132 


GERMAN  LITERATURE. 


appears  as  a  minstrel  at  the  Court  of  Hagen,  Gudrun's 
father : 


Do  sich  diu  nalit  verendet  |  and 

ez  begunde  tagen, 
Horant  begunde  singen,  |  daz  da 

bi  in  den  hagen 
geswigen  alle  vogele    j    von  si- 

nem  siiezen  sange. 
die  liute,  die  dii  sliefen,    |    die 

enlagen  do  niwet  lange. 


Now  when  tbe  nigbt  was  end- 
ed I  and  it  was  near  to  dawn, 

Horant  began  bis  singing,  |  and 
all  the  birds  were  drawn 

To  silence  in  the  hedges,  |  be- 
cause of  his  sweet  song  ; 

And  the  folk  who  still  were 
sleeping,  |  when  they  heard 
him  slept  not  long. 


Sin  liet  erklang  im  shone,    |   ie 

holier  and  ie  baz. 
Hagene  ez  selbe  horte;  |  bi  sinem 

wibe  er  saz. 
iiz  der  kemenaten  |  muosten  s'in 

die  zinne. 
der  gast  wart  wol  beraten.    |    ez 

horte  ez    diu    junge    kiini- 

ginne. 


Sweetly  to  them  it  sounded,  |  so 
loud  and  then  so  low  ; 

And  also  Hagen  heard  it,  |  with 
his  wife  of  rose  and  snow. 

Forth  they  came  from  the  cham- 
ber. I  tothe  hangingbalcony; 

As  the  minstrel  wished,  it  hap- 
pened; I  for  the  young  Queen 
heard  the  melody. 


Des  wilden  Hagenen  tohter  |  und 
ouch  ir  magedin, 

die  sazen  unde  loseten,  |  daz  diu 
vogellin 

vergazin  ir  doene  |  uf  dem  hove 

frone, 
wol  horten  ouch  die  helde,  |  daz 

der  von  Tenemarke  sane  so 

schone. 


The  daughter  of  wild  Hagen,  | 

and  her  maidens  highest  and 

least. 
They  sat  and  silently  listened,  | 

while  the  songs  of  the  small 

birds  ceased, 
About  the  court  of  the  castle,  | 

and  the  heroes  also  heard, 
How  the  minstrel  of  Denmark 

chanted,    |    so   sweetly  the 

souls  of  all  were  stirred. 


D6  wart  im  gedanket  |  vonwiben 

und  von  man. 
do  sprach  von  Tenen  Fruote:  | 
'*  min  neve  mohte  s'lan. 


He  was  thanked  by  every  woman, 
I  and  after  by  all  the  men, 

And  out  of  the  guests  of  Denmark, 
I  spake  bold  Fruote  then  : 


THE  NIBELTJNGENLIEB. 


133 


sin  Tingef  iiege  doene,  |  die  ich  in 
lioere  singen. 

wem  mag  er  ze  dienste  |  als  un- 
gef  iiege  tagewise  bringen  ?  " 


^Ij  nephew  should  leave  his 
singing  :  |  'tis  too  unskilful- 
ly played  : 

To  whom  may  he  be  bringing  | 
this  awkward  morning  sere- 
nade?" 


Do  sprachen  Hagenen  helde  :  | 
"  herre,  lat  vernemen: 

niemen   lebet   so  siecher,    |    im 

mohte  wol  gezemen 
hoeren  sine  stimme,  |  diu  get  uz 

sinem  munde." 

daz   wolde   got  von   himele,"  | 
sprach  der  kiinic,  "daz  ich 
sie  selbe  kunde." 


Answered  Hagen,  the  hero :  ] 
"  My  lord,  let  me  know  your 

mind  ! 
No  one  unsmote  by  sickness  | 

could  pleasure  fail  to  find 
In  the  beautiful  voice  that  com- 

eth   I   out  of  his  mouth  so 

true  :" 
Said  the  King  :  "  Would  to  God 

in  heaven  |  that  I  myself  the 

same  could  do  ! " 


Do  er  due  doene 
gesanc, 

alle  die  ez  horten, 
so  lane. 


sunder  vol 


duhte  ez  niht 


sie  heten'z  niht  geahtet  |   einer 

hande  wile, 
obe  er  solde  singen,  |  daz  einer 

mohte  riten  tusent  mile. 


When  he  had  sung  three  mea- 
sures, I  even  to  the  end  each 
song, 

Every  one  thought  who  heard 
them,  I  the  time  was  not  so 
long. 

They  had  not  thought  it  longer  | 
than  the  turning  of  a  hand, 

Though  he  sang  while  one  were 
riding  |  a  thousand  miles 
across  the  land. 


Here  there  is  altogether  a  softer,  more  lyrical  spirit 
than  in  the  '' Nihelungeny  Something  of  the  sentiment  of 
the  Minnesingers  has  been  incorporated  into  the  older 
legend,  and  it  takes  not  only  the  form  but  also  the  feeling 
of  the  later  age.  Gervinus  says — and  in  this  sense  we 
may  admit  the  comparison — that  '^Gudrim"  bears  the 


134  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

same  relation  to  tlie  "Nibdungenlied''  as  tlie  ''Odyssey" to 
the  "Iliad : "  "  it  has  many  qualities,"  he  adds,  "  which  we 
would  willingly  see  added  to  the  greater  epic.  It  avoids 
the  dry,  colorless  manner  of  narration,  without  adopting 
the  hollow  love  of  ornament  of  the  courtly  poets.  Both 
poems  may  claim  an  immortal  honor  for  the  nation. 
They  reach  equally  far  into  time  with  their  deeds,  cus- 
toms and  views  of  life, — and  into  those  times,  whereof 
the  prejudiced  Roman  enemies  reported  the  bravery 
and  barbarism,  but  also  the  fidelity  and  honesty,  the 
honor  and  chastity  of  our  venerable  ancestors." 

So  far  I  may  quote  and  accept  the  views  of  the  great 
historian  of  German  literature ;  but  when  he  compares 
these  epics  with  the  "inflated  and  disgusting  British 
romances,"  referring  to  the  legends  of  Arthur  and  the 
Holy  Grail,  he  shows  rather  the  egotism  of  his  blood 
than  the  impartial  vision  of  his  calling. 

But,  in  reality,  we  need  no  critical  guide  for  this 
period,  when  we  have  once  mastered  the  language. 
There  was  no  elaborate  art,  even  for  the  most  accom- 
plished of  the  courtly  minstrels :  each  expressed  what 
he  knew,  without  those  disguises  or  affectations  of 
deeper  wisdom  which  are  common  in  a  more  highly 
developed  age.  The  popular  epics  are  as  frank  and 
transparent  as  the  unlettered  human  nature  of  the  race, 
and  it  is  not  the  least  of  their  many  excellent  qualities 
that  they  inspire  us  with  a  better  respect  for  that  nature, 
since  it  produced  them. 


THE  LITERATURE  OF  THE  REFORMATION. 

The  fourteenth  and  the  fifteenth  centuries  seem,  at  first 
sight,  to  present  nearly  a  blank  in  the  history  of  Ger- 
man literature,  and  it  would  greatly  simplify  my  task 
if  I  could  omit  all  notice  of  them,  and  pass  at  once 
to  the  new  spirit  which  was  born  with  the  Keforma- 
tionl^and  partly  because  of  it.  Such  an  omission,  how- 
ever, would  leave  unexplained  the  manner  of  a  change 
which  distinguishes  the  German  literature  of  the  Mid- 
dle Ages  from  that  which  succeeded  it  after  so  long  an 
interval.  The  two  intervening  centuries  were  in  some 
respects  the  darkest  in  mediseval  history;  they  were 
certainly  the  most  confused  ;  and  whether  we  take  the 
political,  the  religious  or  the  literary  element,  we  shall 
have  equal  difficulty  in  finding  an  easy  path  through 
the  chaos. 

With  the  fall  of  the  Hohenstaufen  dynasty  the  power 
of  the  German  Emperors  in  Italy  was  broken,  to  be 
soon  entirely  lost.  The  same  result  which  attended 
the  partial  religious  enfi'anchisement  of  Germany  fol- 
lowed the  political  enfranchisement  of  Italy :  the  stars 
of  Dante  and  Petrarch  rose,  as  those  of  Walther  and 

135 


136  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

Wolfram  set.  Art  and  Literature  revived  tliere,  under 
the  new  republics,  but  in  Germany  the  successors  of 
the  Hohenstaufens  were  men  of  a  very  different  stamp. 
Rudolf  of  Hapsburg  first  set  the  example  of  a  narrow 
attention  to  the  affairs  of  his  race,  but  he  was  no  lover 
of  the  minstrels — and  perhaps  with  good  reason.  The 
mediaeval  passion  for  song  began  at  the  top  and  worked 
downward,  from  reigning  princes  and  poetic  knights, 
through  the  subordinate  classes  of  society.  By  the 
end  of  the  thirteenth  century  the  aristocratic  power  of 
production  was  exhausted,  while  the  j)opular  element 
— in  spite  of  the  '^Nibelimgenlied'''  and  ^' Gudrun"—]iSid 
not  yet  worked  its  way  upward  to  influence  the  tastes 
or  instincts  of  the  higher  classes.  There  was  no  prose 
literature  as  yet,  and  nearly  a  hundred  years  more 
elapsed  before  the  official  documents  and  records  of 
the  country  were  written  in  the  German  language. 

We  can  hardly  wonder  that  courtly  patronage  was 
withheld,  when  the  minstrels  had  come  to  be  bores, 
both  in  their  numbers  and  in  the  quality  of  their  songs. 
The  largesse  bestowed  on  a  few  lucky  ones  tem23ted 
great  numbers  of  poor,  ambitious,  half-educated  nobles 
to  adopt  the  profession,  and  Germany  began  to  resound 
with  the  strains  of  hungry,  pretentious  and  not  even 
elegant  mediocrity.  Then  began  the  rivalry  of  the  im- 
perial candidates,  the  fierce  discussion  between  emperor 
and  nobles,  the  petty  feuds  of  several  hundred  reigning 
princes,  counts  and  prelates, — the  appearance  of  a  grow- 


THE  LITERATURE  OF  THE  REFORMATION.      137 

ing  middle  class, — all  these  causes  resulting  in  constant 
war  or  menace  of  war.  Pestilence,  in  new  and  fearful 
forms,  followed  by  famine,  swept  over  Europe  ;  Huss 
came,  and  was  burned,  leaving  a  sword  behind  him 
which  was  not  sheathed  until  nearly  two  hundred  and 
fifty  years  had  passed ;  and  the  forerunners  of  the 
modern  time  appeared,  as  the  mariner's  compass,  gun- 
powder, watches  and  the  art  of  printing.  Yet,  during 
this  season  of  agitation  and  conflict  and  violence,  the 
basis  of  a  new  literature  was  laid,  partly  through  the 
revival  of  the  ancient  instincts  of  the  people,  and  partly 
from  the  stimulus  of  coming  religious  and  political 
struggles. 

The  two  literary  forces  which  were  so  marked  in  the 
Hohenstaufen  period  continue  to  be  distinguished  for 
some  time  afterward.  Both  the  courtly  and  the  popu- 
lar minstrels  followed  for  a  while  the  same  retrograde 
path.  Even  as  they  had  evolved  the  epic  from  ballad 
material,  they  now  began  to  take  epic  subjects  and, 
from  deficiency  of  power,  to  treat  them  as  ballads; 
and,  as  is  always  the  case,  their  vanity  and  arrogance 
increased  in  proportion  as  their  performance  ISecame 
contemptible.  We  have  but  to  read  a  few  pages  of 
Hugo  von  Montfort,  Oswald  von  Wolkenstein,  or  Al- 
brecht's  "Tihirel,''  to  see  the  decadence  of  the  courtly 
poetry  ;  or  of  Kaspar  von  der  Eoen  and  Ulric  Fiiterer, 
to  see  how  the  popular  poetry  kept  pace  with  it  down- 
ward.    The  one  man  who,  in  imitation  of  Petrarch,  was 


138  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

crowned  by  the  Emperor,  Frederic  III.,  in  the  fifteenth 
century,  was  Conrad  Celtes,  whom  we  do  not  know  as  a 
l^oet.  A  single  fact  may  be  mentioned,  to  show  the 
utter  absence  of  the  most  ordinary  literary  instinct  in 
that  period.  A  Baron  von  Eapoltstein,  who  perceived 
that' Wolfram  von  Eschenbach  had  omitted  from  his 
'^Farzivcd  "  many  episodes  of  the  original  legend,  which 
would  not  harmonize  with  his  poem,  employed  a  Jew 
to  translate,  and  a  scribe  to  write  for  him,  all  these  epi- 
sodes, which,  turned  into  the  worst  doggrel  by  himseK, 
he  then  published  as  a  continuation  of  Wolfi-am's  great 
work!  Even  the  "  TheuercJank ''  of  the  Emperor  Maxi- 
milian, although  it  must  have  been  immensely  admired 
by  the  courtiers,  is  too  stupid  to  be  read  by  any  healthy 
person  now-a-days.  The  scholar  Yilmar,  with  all  his 
apparent  reverence  for  Maximilian,  cannot  help  say- 
ing :  "  the  '  Tlwuerdank '  now  rests  in  the  dust  of  the 
libraries,  even  as  the  noble  Maximilian  in  the  mould  of 
his  imperial  vault.  Let  us  leave  them  in  peace,  the 
great  Emperor  and  his  little  book  !  " 

About  the  only  conclusion  we  can  draw  fi'om  the 
examination — I  will  not  say  the  study — of  those  inferior 
works,  is  this :  that  Wolfram  von  Eschenbach  was  the 
one  master  whom  the  degenerate  jDoets  imitated  in  epic 
narrative,  and  Walther  von  der  Yogelweide  was  their 
model  in  Minne-song.  They  must,  therefore,  have  en- 
joyed a  popularity  in  their  own  day,  and  have  made  an 
impression  strong  enough  to  be  inherited  by  the  com- 


THE  LITERATURE  OF  THE  REFORMATION.      139 

ing  generations, — ^just  as  now  no  one  dares  to  dispute 
Milton's  or  Dryden's  place,  tliongli  so  few  read  them. 
In  the  popular  poems,  a  didactic  element  gradually  be- 
came apparent,  possibly  encouraged  by  the  continued 
reproduction  of  the  much  older  poem  of  '■'Beineche 
Vos,''  which  appeared,  in  the  latest  and  best  version,  in 
Liibeck,  in  the  year  1498.  This  is  another  of  those 
works  which  come  down  to  us,  like  the  "Nibehmgen- 
Ued,''  out  of  an  impenetrable  mist.  We  cannot  say  when 
or  where  it  originated :  we  only  know  that  it  also  grew 
by  the  accretion  of  scattered  fragments  or  independent 
fables,  that  it  was  twice  written  in  Latin,  under  the 
name  of  '^Rehiardus,''  in  Flanders,  in  the  twelfth  century, 
that  it  soon  after  (or,  possibly,  even  earlier)  entered 
French  and  German  literature,  was  retold  by  an  unknown 
German  author  in  the  thirteenth  century,  and  aljout  the 
same  time  by  William  de  Matoc,  in  Dutch, — some  of  these 
versions  containing  from  fifty  to  one  hundred  thousand 
lines.  I  cannot  undertake  more  than  the  mere  mention 
of  this  remarkable  work,  not  because  it  does  not  deserve 
it,  but  simply  because  it  seems  to  have  exercised  no  very 
important  influence  upon  German  literature,  in  compari- 
son with  the  heroic  epics.  It  contains,  in  fact,  so  much 
shrewd  knowledge  of  human  nature,  so  much  wit  and 
vivacity,  and,  as  a  story,  is  constructed  with  such  un- 
doubted skill,  that  when  Goethe  undertook  to  reproduce 
it  in  his  own  finished  hexameters,  he  did  not  dare  to 
change  the  original  in  any  essential  particular.     But, 


140  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

"Reinecke  Fuchs''  is  a  comjDound  fable,  born  of  tliose 
times  wlien  the  fox,  tlie  lion,  tlie  wolf,  the  bear,  the  ass 
and  the  hare  were  made  the  object  of  that  satire  which 
the  author  was  not  at  liberty  to  fling  openly  upon  their 
human  representatives.  Fable  is  the  refuge  of  the  poet 
when  his  people  are  barbarous  and  his  ruler  despotic. 
As  soon  as  he  may  venture  to  satirize  and  scourge  the 
vices  of  classes,  and  then  of  individual  characters,  its 
office  is  at  an  end.  For  men  are  always  more  legiti- 
mately his  theme  than  beasts,  and  Fable  is  only  gene- 
rally poj^ular  among  restricted  and  undeveloj^ed  races, 
or  with  children  in  jDassing  through  the  corresponding 
stage  of  growth.  Not  even  Goethe's  genius,  and  Kaul- 
bach's  after  him,  can  make  men  read  ^'Belnecke  FucJis'' 
at  this  day.  It  impresses  us  as  a  performance  of  masked 
figures,  and  we  j)refer  to  see  the  full  range  of  undis- 
guised human  expression  on  the  stage.  I  find  very  lit- 
tle evidence  that  the  older  poem  contributed  toward 
the  development  of  even  the  humorous  element  in  Ger- 
man literature.  It  is  an  illustration,  and  a  valuable  one ; 
but  in  dealing  with  the  direct  and  powerful  influences, 
the  effects  of  which  we  can  trace  from  century  to  cen- 
tury, it  must  be  set  aside,  to  be  considered  afterward 
from  an  independent  point  of  view. 

There  are  records,  nevertheless,  left  by  the  fourteenth 
and  the  fifteenth  centuries,which  possess  a  genuine  inter- 
est for  us.  Unnoticed  at  the  time,  much  of  the  material 
must  have  died,  as  naturally  as  it  originated,  ignorant 


THE  LITERATURE  OF  THE  REFORMATION.      141 

of  its  own  value ;  but  here  and  there  a  little  song  or 
ballad,  like  tlie  English  Eeliques  gathered  by  Percy  and 
Ellis,  has  survived  the  storms  of  the  ages.  The  popular 
songs — by  which  I  mean,  not  those  written  for  the  peo- 
ple, in  imitation  or  continuation  of  the  earlier  heroic 
ballads  or  epics,  but  those  written  by  the  people  them- 
selves,— nay,  not  written,  only  sung,  verse  sprouting  from 
verse  as  simply  as  leaf  from  leaf  on  a  plant — these  songs 
show  that  we  have  found  a  new  spirit.  They  are  an 
evidence  that  the  impulse  from  above,  under  the  Ho- 
henstaufens,  has  at  last  touched  bottom,  and  quick- 
ened the  latent  poetic  instinct  of  the  people,  which 
begins  to  speak  with  the  childish  stammer  of  a  new  lan- 
guage. 

Take,  for  example,  this  little  "  Trooper's  Song,"  from 
the  fifteenth  century,  hinting  of  plunder,  but  very  bold 
and  spirited : 


Woluf,  ir  lieben  gsellen, 
die  uns  gebruodert  sein, 
und  raten  zuo  !  wir  wcillen 
dort  prassen  iiber  Rein  ; 
es  kumt  ein  friselier  summer, 
daruf  icli  mein  sach  setz, 
als  ie  lenger,  ie  dummer : 
tin  bin  !  wetz,  eber,  wetz  ! 
wack,  biietlein,  in  dem  gfretz  ! 


Up  and  away,  good  comrades, 
Ye  gallant  brothers  mine. 
Ride  fast !  it  is  our  purpose 
To  dash  beyond  the  Rhine. 
There  comes  a  fine  fresh  summer 
And  promises  good  store  : 
The  longer  'tis,  the  better  ; 
Up,  whet  your  tusks,  old  boar  I 
The  pasture  waits  once  more. 


Der  sumer  sol  uns  bringen 
ein  frischen  freien  muot, 
leicht  tuot  uns  irn  gelingen, 
so  kum  wir  hinder  guot ; 


The  summer,  it  shall  bring  us 
Good  luck  and  courage  pure  : 
Success  for  us  is  easy. 
And  gay  return  is  sure. 


142  GERMAN  LITERATURE, 

sie  sein  vil  e  erritten.  Many  rode  out  before  us 

dan  graben,  dise  scbetz.  And  treasure  found  in  store ; 

wir  ban  uns  laug  gelitten  :  We're  starved  too  long  already ; 

bin  bin  !  wetz,  eber,  wetz  !  Up,  wbet  your  tusks,  old  boar  ! 

wack,  biietlein,  in  dem  gfretz  !  Tbe  pasture  waits  once  more. 

.  Drumb  last  iicb  nit  erscbreck-  Tben  be  not  slow  or  timid, 

en, 

ir  f riscben  krieger  stolz  !  Ye  troopers,  fresb  and  good  ! 

wir  zieben  durob  die  becken  We'll  break  tbrougb  bedge  and 

tbicket, 

und  rumpeln  in  das  bolz  ;  And  crasb  across  tbe  wood  ! 

man  wird  nocb  unser  geren  Ours  sball  be  name  and  bonor 

und  nit  acbten  so  letz,  As  good  as  any  wore  : 

all  ding  ein  well  tuon  weren:  Wbat  otbers  do,  we'll  do  it : 

bin  bin  !  wetz,  eber,  wetz  !  Up,  wbet  your  tusks,  old  boar  ! 

wack,  biietlein,  in  dem  gfretz  I  Tbe  pasture  waits  once  more. 

I  tliink  it  requires  but  a  slight  familiarity  with  the 
German  language,  to  feel  the  complete  variation  in 
tone  and  spirit  between  these  verses  and  those  of  the 
Minnesingers.  The  movement,  the  character,  almost 
the  language,  is  that  of  modern  song :  so  might  Theodor 
Korner  have  written,  had  he  lived  in  those  days. 

This  popular  poetry  grew  u]^  simultaneously  with 
another  variety  of  lyric  art  which  I  must  mention  here, 
since  it  can  be  traced  back  to  the  middle  of  the  four- 
teenth century,  although  its  period  of  bloom  was  much 
later.  It  is  the  most  remarkable  phenomenon  in  the 
intellectual  history  of  any  people.  One  who  is  unac- 
quainted with  the  development  of  German  literature 
might  well  be  pardoned  for  doubting  it.  The  fact  that 
thousands  upon  thousands  of  persons  organized  for  the 


THE  LITERATURE  OF  THE  REFORMATION.      143 

purpose  of  writing  poetry,  and  kept  up  their  organiza- 
tion for  centuries,  seems  incredible.  What  is  called  the 
Meistergesanfj  in  Germany  (master-poetry,  though  a  bet- 
ter translation  is  trade-poetry)  was  the  successor  of  the 
Minnegesang ,  and  there  is  some  reason  for  conjecturing 
that  Frauenlob,  the  last,  and,  to  my  thinking,  the  poor- 
est of  the  Minnesingers,  was  one  of  the  first  Masters  of 
the  trade.  When  the  organized  societies  had  existed 
for  some  time  throughout  Germany,  and  traditions  of 
former  generations  of  professional  singers  began  to 
gather  about  them,  an  attempt  w^as  made  to  give  a  Ma- 
sonic mystery  and  antiquity  to  the  craft;  but  it  is  not 
officially  mentioned  in  documents  before  the  close  of 
the  fourteenth  century,  and  there  is  no  evidence  what- 
ever that  any  of  the  guilds  were  in  existence  before  the 
year  1300.  The  mechanics,  singularly  enough,  were 
among  the  first  to  enroll  themselves,  and  it  is  probable 
that  the  conservatism  of  their  class  was  the  chief  means 
of  sustaining  these  guilds  of  song  for  five  hundred 
years;  for,  although  the  famous  school  of  Nuremberg 
was  closed  in  1770,  the  last  songs  were  sung  by  the 
twelve  masters  of  Ulm,  in  the  year  1330. 

A  rapid  sketch  of  the  nature  and  regulations  of  one 
of  these  master-schools  must  not  be  omitted.  Each 
city  had  its  own  laws  and  customs,  but  the  constitution 
of  all  was  similar.  The  general  method,  according  to 
which  all  songs  must  be  written — called  the  Tnhulatur 
— was  first  adopted.     Then  the  members  of  the  guild 


144  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

were  divided  according  to  their  knowledge  and  skill. 
Those  still  ignorant  of  the  rhjtlimical  laws  were  called 
"Puj^ils;"  those  acquainted  with  those  laws,  "School- 
friends;"  those  who  knew  several  "tones"  (forms  of 
verse),  were  "Singers;"  those  who  were  able  to  compose 
new  words  to  the  old  tones,  were  "Poets;"  and,  finally, 
those  capable  of  inventing  a  new  tone,  were  "  Masters." 
Frauenlob,  for  instance,  was  the  inventor  of  thirty-five 
such  new  tones.  The  names  given  to  them  were  very- 
cur  ious  and  ludicrous.  In  his  "  Hyperion,"  Longfellow 
mentions  the  "  flowery-paradise-measure,  the  frog-mea- 
sure, and  the  looking-glass-measure," — and  he  might 
also  have  added  "the  much-too-short-sunset-measure, 
the  striped-saffron-flower-measure,  the  English-tin-mea- 
sure, the  blood-gleaming-wire-measure,  the  fat-badger- 
measure,  the  yellow-lion' s-hide-measure,  and  the  de- 
ceased-glutton-measure ! " 

"When  the  guild  assembled,  three  officials,  called  the 
3Ierher,  took  their  seats  upon  a  raised  platform ;  their 
business  was  to  listen  sharply,  detect  faults  in  the 
singers,  and  either  punish  or  reward  them  according  to 
their  deserts.  The  rules,  in  this  respect,  were  very 
strict :  among  the  crimes  were  not  only  unusual  words, 
slight  rhythmical  changes  or  variations  in  the  melody, 
but  even  what  were  called  "  false  opinions."  Whoever 
succeeded  in  fulfilling  all  the  laws  of  the  Tabidatur,  and 
was  therefore  perfect  in  the  trade,  received  a  silver 
chain  to  which  a  medal,  containing  the  head  of  King 


THE  LITERATURE  OF  THE  REFORMATIOX.     145 

David,  was  attached  :  the  second  prize  was  a  wreath  of 
artificial  flowers  made  of  silk. 

When  we  consider  that,  from  first  to  last,  this  institu- 
tion of  the  Master-Song  existed  five  hundred  years,  and 
that  every  considerable  town  in  Germany  had  its  guild, 
we  may  guess  what  a  colossal  quantity  of  mechanical 
poetry  was  produced.  On  the  other  hand,  we  shall  not 
wonder  that  so  little  of  it  has  survived.  The  Eeforma- 
tion  only  strengthened  it  by  giving  it  a  religious  char- 
acter, and  the  Thirty  Years'  War  probably  only  made 
the  blood-gleaming-wire-measure  more  common,  for  it 
hardly  shook  a  single  society  out  of  existence.  Of  the 
thousands  of  Masters  who  lived  and  died,  only  one — 
the  greatest — has  been  much  heard  of  outside  of  Ger- 
many, and  that  is  Hans  Sachs,  of  Nuremberg,  the  writer 
of  more  than  six  thousand  poems  and  dramatic  pieces. 
Even  he,  though  the  later  poets  and  the  modern  critics 
of  Germany  have  recognized  his  merit  and  deserved 
prominence  in  a  dreary  literary  age — even  he  cannot 
escape  the  hard  mechanical  touch  of  his  laws  of  master- 
song.  In  Kaulbach's  picture  of  the  Eeformation,  he 
is  drawn  in  his  leather  apron,  seated,  and  counting  off 
the  feet  of  his  verse  with  his  thumb  and  forefinger. 
This  is  a  nice  characteristic  ;  for  I  need  hardly  tell  you 
that  the  Poet  who  is  born,  and  not  made,  never  counts 
his  feet  in  that  way.  Nevertheless,  there  is  little  of 
Hans  Sachs's  poetry  which  does  not  suggest  to  me  that 
thumb  and  forefinger. 


146  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

Since  the  members  were  almost  exclusively  meclia- 
nics,  we  might  expect  that  so  long  a  metrical  discipline 
must  have  affected  the  tastes  and  instincts  of  the  peojDle. 
It  must,  at  least,  have  j)artly  laid  the  basis  of  that  general 
aesthetic  development  which  occurred  seventy  or  eighty 
years  ago.  At  the  present  day  there  are  few  educated 
Germans,  men  or  women,  who  cannot  write  rhythmically 
correct  verse.  But  when  we  come  to  speak  of  poetry  as 
the  expression  of  intellectual  growth,  the  result  would 
probably  be  the  very  opposite.  The  good  mechanics 
confounded  the  letter  and  the  sj)irit,  like  many  men  in 
much  higher  stations.  I  confess  there  is  something 
picturesque  and  even  beautiful  in  this  long  devotion  to 
the  external  form,  with  all  its  unnatural  and  ludicrous 
features  ;  and  I  am  ready  to  agree  with  Longfellow, 
when  he,  a  Master-singer,  thus  sings  of  those  old  Master- 
singers  : 

"  From  remote  and  sunless  suburbs  came  tbej  to  tbe  friendly  guild. 
Building  nests  in  Fame's  great  temple,  as  in  spouts  the  swallows 

build. 
As  the  weaver  plied  his  shuttle,  wove  he  too  the  mystic  rhyme  ; 
And  the  smith  his  iron  measures  hammered  to  the  anvil's  chime ; 
Thanking  God,  whose  boundless  wisdom  makes  the  flowers  of  poesy 

bloom 
In  the  forge's  dust  and  cinders,  in  the  tissues  of  the  loom." 

Here,  then,  are  the  chief  features  of  German  litera- 
ture between  the  years  1300  and  1500 — weak  echoes  of 
the  epic  and  the  minne-song,  gradually  dying  of  their 
own  imbecility :  the  institution  of  poetry  as  a  trade  or 


THE  LITERATURE  OF  THE  REFORMATION.      147 

handicraft  (more  correctly,  wordicraft) ;  tlie  modest 
growth  of  a  new  spirit  of  song  among  the  common  peo- 
ple; the  increasing  prominence  of  the  didactic  element, 
and  the  slow  and  painful  effort  of  the  neglected  Ger- 
man prose  to  raise  itself  into  notice.  The  invention  of 
printing,  at  the  start,  gave  currency  to  many  more  indif- 
ferent works  than  to  those  which  needed  to  be  saved ; 
but  the  fermentation  which  preceded  the  great  religious 
movement  had  already  commenced,  and  it  was  destined 
to  stamp  its  character  upon  nearly  all  the  literature  of 
the  next  century. 

Before  we  turn  to  the  coming  change,  let  me  mention 
two  or  three  works  which  lift  themselves  a  little  above 
the  level  of  the  intermediate  period.  In  the  first  place 
many  knightly  legends  and  old  traditions  were  trans- 
lated and  read  throughout  Germany — among  others 
*^Die  sieben  iceisen  3Ieister''  (The  Seven  Wise  Masters) 
and  the  "Gesta  Romanorum ;'^  various  historical  chroni- 
cles were  written ;  and  the  theological  writings  of  Tauler, 
the  mystic,  and  Gailer  von  Kaysersberg,  are  worthy  of 
notice.  Sebastian  Brandt,  toward  the  close  of  the  fif- 
teenth century,  published  his  ^^ Narrenschif  (Shij)  of 
Fools)  and  his  ''  Nan^nsptegeV  (Mirror  of  Fools),  or  a 
didactic  poem  of  a  Hudibrastic  character,  full  of  shrewd 
and  pithy  phrases,  in  a  coarse  Alsatian  German,  and 
with  frequent  gleams  of  a  genuine  humor.  It  was  very 
popular  for  some  years,  until  the  religious  division  of 
Germany  drew  nearer,  when  Brandt,  like  his  successor, 


X48  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

Thomas  Murner,  became  a  bitter  opponent  of  tlie  Refor- 
mation. Murner  followed  with  his  ''Narrenheschworung  " 
(Conjuration  of  Fools) ;  but  his  chief  merit  was  his  ver- 
sion of  the  pranks  of  Till  Euleiispiegel  (Till  Owlglass) — 
a  famous  book  ever  since  that  day.  A  translation  of  it 
was  published  in  this  country  only  four  or  five  years 
ago.  I  might  also  mention  the  names  of  Rosenbliit  and 
Muscatbliit,  and  of  that  hand-organ  grinder,  Caspar  von 
der  Roen,  but  only  because  they  sometimes  occur  in 
German  literature.  They  wrote  nothing  of  sufficient 
interest  to  review  here. 

The  Reformation  was  partly  heralded  by  pamphlets 
and  poems,  as  well  as  by  sermons.  All  the  princiiDal 
Reformers  rose  at  once,  as  authors,  far  above  their 
immediate  literary  predecessors.  That  daring  and  inde- 
pendent spirit  which  grew  from  their  strongest  spiritual 
convictions  extended  itself  to  everything  which  they 
spoke  or  wrote.  In  forgetting  the  conventionalities  of 
literature,  and  giving  their  whole  soul  and  strength  to 
the  clearest  utterance  of  their  views,  they  unconsciously 
acquired  a  higher  literary  style.  In  singing  what  they 
felt  to  be  God's  truth,  they  did  not  take  the  Minne- 
singers as  models,  or  consider  the  artificial  rules  of  the 
Masters;  and  so  there  came  into  their  songs  a  new, 
veritable  sweetness  and  strenpjth,  drawn  directly  from 
the  heart.  It  was  no  time  for  purely  aesthetic  develop- 
ment ;  fancy  or  imagination  could  not  soar  in  that  stern, 
disturbed  atmosphere.     But  the  basis  was  then  laid,  on 


THE  LITERATURE  OF  THE  REFORMATION.      149 

which  the  immortal  literature  of  the  last  century  is 
founded. 

Zwingli  was  born  in  November,  1483,  Luther  two 
months  afterward,  and  Ulric  von  Hutten  in  1488. 
They  worked  simultaneously,  but  in  different  ways  and 
with  very  different  degrees  of  literary  merit.  Zwingli 
was  polemical,  Hutten  satirical,  and  Luther  creative. 
Hutten's  Dialogues,  in  point,  satire  and  rapid  ease  of 
movement,  surpass  any  German  prose  before  him  ;  but 
they,  like  all  German  prose  up  to  that  time,  are  marked 
by  the  local  dialect  of  the  author.  The  language  was 
gradually  developing  its  qualities,  but  in  an  irregular 
and  not  very  coherent  fashion.  Philologically,  there 
were  almost  as  many  different  varieties  of  prose  as  there 
were  authors,  while  poetry  (except  the  unnoticed  songs 
of  the  people)  had  hardened  into  the  rigid  moulds 
made  for  it  more  than  two  hundred  years  before. 

The  man  who  re-created  the  German  language — I 
hardly  think  the  expression  too  strong — was  Martin 
Luther.  It  was  his  fortune  and  that  of  the  world  that 
he  was  so  equally  great  in  many  directions — as  a  per- 
sonal character,  as  a  man  of  action,  as  a  teacher  and 
preacher,  and,  finally,  as  an  author.  No  one  before  him, 
and  no  one  for  nearly  two  hundred  years  after  him,  saw 
that  the  German  tongue  must  be  sought  for  in  the 
mouths  of  the  people — that  the  exhausted  expression 
of  the  earlier  ages  could  not  be  revived,  but  that  the 
newer,  fuller  and  richer  speech,  then  in  its  childhood, 


150  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

must  at  ouce  be  acknowledged  and  adopted.  He  made 
it  tlie  Yeliicle  of  what  was  divinest  in  human  lan- 
guage ;  and  those  who  are  not  informed  of  his  manner 
of  translating  the  Bible,  cannot  aj^preciate  the  origi- 
nality of  his  work,  or  the  marvelous  truth  of  the  in- 
stinct which  led  him  to  it. 

With  all  his  scholarship),  Luther  dropped  the  theo- 
logical style,  and  sought  among  the  people  for  phrases 
as  artless  and  simple  as  those  of  the  Hebrew  writers. 
He  frequented  the  market-place,  the  merry-making,  the 
house  of  birth,  marriage  or  death  among  the  common 
people,  in  order  to  catch  the  fullest  exjDression  of  their 
feelings  in  the  simplest  words.  He  enlisted  his  friends 
in  the  same  service,  begging  them  to  note  down  for  him 
any  peculiar,  sententious  phrase  ;  "  for,"  said  he,  "  I  can- 
not use  the  words  heard  in  castles  and  at  courts."  Not 
a  sentence  of  the  Bible  was  translated,  until  he  had 
sought  lor  the  briefest,  clearest  and  strongest  German 
equivalent  to  it.  He  writes,  in  1530 :  "  I  have  exerted 
myself,  in  translating,  to  give  pure  and  clear  German. 
And  it  has  verily  happened,  that  we  have  sought  and 
questioned  a  fortnight,  three,  four  weeks,  for  a  single 
word,  and  yet  it  was  not  always  found.  In  Job  we  so 
labored,  Philip  Melanchthon,  Aurogallus  and  I,  that 
in  four  days  we  sometimes  barely  finished  three  lines. 
.  .  .  It  is  well  enough  to  plow,  when  the  field  is 
cleared  ;  but  to  root  out  stock  and  stone,  and  prepare  the 
ground,  is  what  no  one  will." 


THE  LITERATURE  OF  THE  REFORMATION.      151 

He  illustrates  liis  own  plan  of  translation  by  an  ex- 
ample wliicli  is  so  interesting  that  I  must  quote  it : 
"We  must  not  ask  tlie  letters  in  tlie  Latin  language 
how  we  should  speak  German,  as  the  asses  do,  but  we 
must  ask  the  mother  in  the  house,  the  children  in  the 
lanes,  the  common  man  in  the  market-place,  and  read 
in  their  mouths  how  they  speak,  and  translate  accord- 
ing thereto :  then  they  understand,  for  they  see  we  are 
speaking  German  to  them.  As  when  Christ  says :  Ex 
ahundantia  cordis  os  loquitur.  Now  if  I  were  to  follow 
the  asses,  they  would  dissect  for  me  the  letters  and 
thus  translate  :  *  Out  of  the  superabundance  of  the 
heart,  speaks  the  mouth.'  Now  tell  me,  is  that  spoken 
German  ?  What  German  understands  that  ?  What  is 
superabundance  of  the  heart,  to  a  German?  No  Ger- 
man would  say  that,  unless  he  meant  that  he  had  too 
much  of  a  heart,  or  too  big  a  heart,  although  even  that 
is  not  correct ;  for  superabundance  of  heart  is  no  Ger- 
man, any  more  than — superabundance  of  house,  super- 
abundance of  cooking-stoYe,  superabundance  of  bencli ; 
but  thus  speaketh  the  mother  in  the  house  and  the 
common  man :  Whose  heart  is  full,  his  mouth  overflows. 
That  is  Germanly  spoken,  such  as  I  have  endeavored 
to  do,  but,  alas  !  not  always  succeeded." 

Luther  translated  the  Bil)le  eiglity  years  before  our 
English  version  was  produced.  I  do  not  know  whether 
the  Englisli  translators  made  any  use  of  his  labors, 
although  they  inclined  toward  the  same  plan,  without 


152  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

following  it  so  conscientiously.  In  regard  to  accuracy 
of  rendering,  tliere  is  less  difference.  Bunsen,  in  his 
"Bibehcerl',''  states  that  there  are  more  than  five  hundred 
errors  in  either  version.  But,  in  regard  to  the  fullness, 
the  strength,  the  tenderness,  the  vital  power  of  language, 
I  think  Luther's  Bible  decidedly  superior  to  our  own. 
The  instinct  of  one  great  man,  is,  in  such  matters,  if  not 
a  safer,  at  least  a  more  satisfactory  guide  than  the  ave- 
rage judgment  of  forty-seven  men.  Luther  was  a  j)oet 
as  well  as  a  theologian,  and,  as  a  poet,  he  was  able  to 
feel,  as  no  theologian  could,  the  intrinsic  difference  of 
spirit  and  character  in  the  different  books  of  the  Old 
Testament, — not  only  to  feel,  but,  through  the  sympa- 
thetic quality  of  the  poetic  nature,  to  reproduce  them. 
These  ten  years,  from  1522  to  1532,  which  he  devoted 
to  the  work,  were  not  only  years  of  unremitting,  prayer- 
ful, conscientious  labor,  but  also  of  warm,  bright,  joyous 
intellectual  creation.  We  can  only  appreciate  his  won- 
derful achievement  by  comparing  it  with  any  German 
prose  before  his  time.  Let  me  quote  his  version  of  the 
139th  Psalm,  as  an  example  of  the  simplicity,  the 
strength  and  the  nobility  of  his  style : 

Herr,  du  erforschest  micli,  und  kennest  micli. 

2. — Icli  sitze  Oder  stehe  aiif,  so  weisst  du  es ;   du  verstebest  meine 

Qedanken  von  feme. 
3. — Ich  gehe  oder  liege,  so  bist  du  um  micli,  und  sieliest  alle  me'ne 

Wege. 
4. — Denn  siehe,  es  ist  kein  Wort  auf  meiner  Zunge,  das  du,    Herr, 

niclit  Alles  wissest. 


THE  LITERATURE  OF  THE  REFORMATION.      I53 

5.— Du  schaffest  es,  was  icli  vor  oder  liernacli  tliue,  und  lialtst  deine 

Hand  iiber  mir. 

— Solches  Erkenntniss   ist  mir  zu  wunderlicli  und  zu  lioch  ;    ich 

liann  es  niclit  begreifen. 

—Wo  soil  ich  liingelien  vor  deinem  Geist?     Und  wo  soil  ich  Mn- 

fiiehen  vor  deinem  Angesicht  ? 

— Flilire  ich  gen  Himmel,  so  bist  du  da.      Bettete  ich  mir  in  die 

Hcille,  sielie,  so  bist  du  audi  da. 

— Nahme  icli  Fliigel  der  Morgenrotbe,  und  bliebe  am  aussersten 

Meer, 
10.— So  wiirde  mich  docli  deine    Hand  daselbst    fiibren,  und  deine 

Reclite  mich  halten. 
11.  — Sprache  ich:    Finsterniss  moge  mich  decken  ;  so  muss  die  Nacht 

auch  Licht  um  micji  seyn. 
12.— Denu  auch  Finsterniss  nicht  finster  ist  bei  dir,  und  die  Nacht 

leuchtet  wie  dpr  Tag ;  Finsterniss  ist  wie  das  Licht. 

Now  let  us  take  a  few  verses  from  the  well-known 
chapter  of  Paul— the  thirteenth  of  the  first  EjDistle  to  the 
Corinthians,  and  feel  how  Luther  was  equally  capable 
of  expressing  the  warmth,  the  tenderness  and  the  beauty 
of  the  original.  You  will  note  that  the  word  "  charity" 
of  our  version  is  more  correctly  rendered  "  love  "  : 

Wenn  ich  mit  Menschen- und  mit  Engelzungen  redete,  und  hatte 
der  Liebe  nicht ;  so  ware  ich  ein  tonend  Erz,  oder  eine  klingende 
Schelle. 

2.— Und  wenn  ich  weissagen  konnte,  und  wiisste  alle  Geheimnisse, 
und  alle  Erkenntniss,  und  hatte  alien  Glauben,  also,  dass  ich  Barge 
versetzte,  und  hatte  der  Liebe  nicht ;  so  ware  ich  nichts. 

3-— Uiid  wenn  ich  alle  meine  Habe  den  Armen  gabe,  und  liesse  mei- 
nen  Leib  brennen,  und  hatte  der  Liebe  nicht ;  so  ware  mir's  nichts 
niitze. 

4.— Die  Liebe  is  langmiithig  und  freundlich,  die  Liebe  eifert  nicht, 
die  Liebe  treibt  nicht  Muthwillen,  sie  blahet  sich  nicht, 

5.— Sie  stellet  sich  nicht  ungeberdig,  sie  suchet  nicht  das  Ihre,  sie 
lasst  sich  nicht  erbittern,  sie  trachtet  nicht  nach  Schaden, 
7* 


154  GEBMAN  LITERATURE. 

6. — Sie  freuet  sich  niclit  der  Ungerechtigkeit,  sie  freuet  sich  aber  der 

Wahrlieit, 
7. — Sie  vertragt  Alles,  sie  glaubet  Alles,  sie  lioffet  Alles,  sie  duldet 

Alles. 
8. — Die  Liebe  horet  nimuier  auf,  so  docb  die  Weissagungen  aufh6ren 

werden,  und  die  Sprachen  aufhoren  werden,  und  das  Erkenntniss 

auflioren  wird. 

I  liave  not  tlie  time  to  compare,  as  I  should  wish, 
certain  passages,  verse  by  verse,  nor,  indeed,  to  dwell 
longer  on  a  work  which,  although  a  translation,  pos- 
sesses for  the  German  race  the  literary  importance  of 
an  original  creation.  Let  us  take  two  very  different 
examples  of  Luther's  abilities  as  an  author — the  first, 
that  celebrated  hymn,  ^'Eine  feste  Burg  ist  unser  Gott'^ 
which  should  be  properly  chanted  to  his  own  music,  as 
it  still  is  in  Germany,  in  order  to  be  fully  appreciated. 
The  theme  is  taken  from  the  forty-sixth  Psalm;  the 
translation  is  Carlyle's : 

EIn  feste  burg  ist  vnser  Gott,  A  safe  stronghold  our  God  is  still, 

ein  gute  wehr  vnd  waffeu  :  A  trusty  shield  and  weapon  ; 

Er  hilfft  vns  f  rey  aus  aller  not  He'll  help  us  clear  from  all  the  ill 

die  vns  itzt  hat  betroffen.  That  hath  us  now  o'ertaken. 

Der  alt  bose  feind  The  ancient  Prince  of  Hell 

mit  ernst  ers  itzt  meint,  Has  risen  with  purpose  fell ; 

gros  macht  vnd  viel  list  Strong  mail  of  Craft  and  Power 

sein  grausam  riistung  ist,  He  weareth  in  this  hour, 

aufi  erd  ist  nichts  seins  gleichen.  On  Earth  is  not  his  fellow. 

Mit  vnser  macht  ist  nichts  ge-  With  force  of  arms  we  nothing 

than,  can, 

wlr  sind  gar  bald  verloren  :  Full  soon  were  we  down-ridden  ; 

Es  streit  f  iir  vns  der  rechte  man,  But  for  us  fights  the  proper  Man, 

den  Gott  hat  selbs  erkoren.  Whom  God  himself  hath  bidden. 


THE  LITERATURE  OF  THE  REFORMATION.      155 


Fragstu,  wer  der  ist  ? 
er  heisst  Jhesiis  Christ, 
der  HERR  Zebaoth, 
vnd  ist  kein  ander  Gott, 
das  felt  mus  er  behalten. 

Vnd  wenn  die  welt  vol  Teuffel 

wer, 
vnd  wolt  vns  gar  verschlingen, 
so  fiirchten  wir  vns  nicht  so  sehr, 
es  sol  vns  doch  gelingen. 
Der  Fiirst  dieser  welt, 
wie  sawr  er  sicli  stelt, 
thiit  er  vns  docli  nicht, 
das  macht,  er  ist  gericht, 
ein  wortlin  kan  jn  fellen. 

Das  wort  sie  sollen  lassen  stan 

vnd  kein  danck  dazu  haben, 
Er  ist  bey  vns  wol  auff  dem  plan 

mit  seinem  geist  vnd  gaben. 

Nemen  sie  den  leib, 
gut,  ehr,  kind  vnd  weib : 
las  fahren  dahiu, 
sie  habens  kein  gewin, 
Das  Reich  mus  vns  doch  bleiben. 


Ask  ye,  Who  is  this  same? 
Christ  Jesus  is  his  name. 
The  Lord  Zebaoth's  Son, 
He  and  no  other  one 
Shall  conquer  in  the  battle. 

And  were  this  world  all  Devils 

o'er, 
And  watching  to  devour  us. 
We  lay  it  not  to  heart  so  sore. 
Not  they  can  overpower  us. 
And  let  the  Prince  of  111 
Look  grim  as  e'er  he  will. 
He  harms  us  not  a  whit : 
For  why?    His  doom  is  writ, 
A  word  shall  quickly  slay  him. 

God's  Word,  for  all  their  craft 

and  force. 
One  moment  will  not  linger. 
But  spite  of  Hell  shall  have  its 

course, 
'Tis  written  by  his  finger. 
And  though  they  take  our  life, 
Goods,  honour,  children,  wife. 
Yet  is  their  profit  small ; 
These  things  shall  vanish  all, 
The  City  of  God  remaineth. 


We  seem  to  hear  the  steps  of  a  giant,  to  whom  every- 
thing must  give  way,  in  the  strong,  short  march  of 
the  original  lines.  I  meant  to  quote,  as  a  contrast 
to  this,  the  letter  which  Luther  wrote  to  his  little 
son,  as  delightfully  artless  and  childlike  a  piece  of  writ- 
ing as  anything  which  Hans  Christian  Andersen  has 
ever  produced.  But  it  is  so  well  known  that  I  have 
decided  to   translate,  instead,    a  Christmas   poem   for 


156  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

children,  whicli  I  believe  lias  never  been  rendered  into 
English : 

VOm  Himel  lioch  da  kom  ich      From  Heaven  I  come,  a  herald 

her,  true, 

ich  bring  euch  gute  newe  mehr,       To  bring  glad  tidings  down  to 

you. 
Der  guten  mehr  bring  ich  so  viel       So  much  good  news  I  hither  bring 
dauon  ich  singen  vnd  sagen  wil.       That  1  thereof  must  speak  and 

sing. 

Euch  ist  ein  kindlein  heut  ge-  There's    born,    to-day,    a   little 

born,  child, 

von  einer  Jungfraw,  auserkorn,  And  from   a  Virgin,  pure  and 

mild  ; 

Ein  klndelein,  so  zart  und  fein,  A  babe  so  fine  and  fair  to  see, 

das   sol   ewr   freud  vnd  wonne  It  must  your  bliss  and  fortune 

sein.  be. 

Es  ist  der  HERR  Christ  vnser      'Tis  Christ,  the  Lord,  our  God 

Gott,  indeed, 

der  wil  euch  f  iirn  aus  aller  not.         Who   out   of    trouble   us    shall 

lead  ; 
Er  wil  ewr  Heiland  selber  sein,        He  shall  your  Saviour  be,  and 

make 
von  alien  sunden  machen  rein.  Ye  pure   of   sin  for  his  sweet 

sake. 

Er  bringt  euch  alle  seligkeit.  All  joy  to  you  his  hand  shall 

bear, 

die  Gott  der  Vater  hat  bereit,  Which  God  the  Father  did  pre- 

pare, 

Das  jr  mit  vns  im  himelreich  That  so  with  us  ye  children  be 

solt  leben  nu  vnd  ewigleicl\  In  his  own  heaven  eternally. 

So  mercket  nu  das  zeichen  reclit,       Now  mark  ye  well  what  tokens 

these  : 
die  krippen,  windelein  so  schlecht,  The   manger  and  the   cloth  of 

frieze. 


THE  LITERATURE  OF  THE  REFORMATION.      157 

Da  findet  jr  das  kind  gelegt.  The  little  baby  there  ye'll  find, 

das  alle  welt  erhelt  und  tregt.  Who  shall  the  world  sustain  and 

bind. 

Des  lasst  vns  alle  frolich  sein  Let  us  with  gladness  and  with 

prayer 
vnd  niit  den  hirten  gehen  hinein,       Now  enter  with  the  shepherds 

there, 
Zu  sehen,  was  Gott  vns  hat  be-       To   see  what   God  for  us  hath 

schert,  done 

mit  seinem  lieben  Sou  verehrt.  In  giving  us  his  darling  Son. 

Merck  aufE,  mein  hertz,  vnd  sich       Look  up,  my  dears  !  turn  there 

dort  hin  :  your  eyes  : 

was  ligt  doch  in  dem  krippelin,        What  is  it  in  the  manger  lies  ? 
Was  ist  das  schone  kindelin  ?  Who  is  the  babe,  the  lamb,  the 

dove? 
es  ist  das  liebe  Jhesulin.  'Tis  little  Jesus  whom  we  love. 

Bis  willekomen,  du  edler  gast.  Be    welcome,    guest    so    nobly 

prized, 
den    Sunder  nicht  verschmehet       Who  hast   the   sinner    not   de- 
hast,  spised, 
Ynd   kompst   ins  elend  her  zu       And  should'st  thou  come  thro* 

mir  ;  woe  to  me, 

wie  sol  ich  immerdancken  dir  ?        How  shall  I   render   thanks  to 

thee? 

Ach,  HERE,  du  schopffer  aller  Ah,  Lord  !  who  did'st  all  things 

ding,  create, 

wie  bistu  worden  so  gering.  How    art    thou    fallen    to    low 

estate  ! 

Dass   du   da  ligst    aufE  durrem  Upon  dry  grass  thou  liest  here  : 

gras, 

dauon  ein  rind  vnd  esel  ass.  Beside  thee  feed  the  ass  and  steer. 

Vnd   wer    die  welt   vielmal    so       Were  the  whole  world  full  as  *t 

weit,  could  hold 

von  edel  stein  vnd  gold  bereit.  Of  precious  jewels  and  of  gold, 


158  OERMAX  LITERATURE. 

So  wer  sie  docli  dirviel  zuklein,       For  tliee  'twere  far  too  small 

'twould  be 
zu  sein  ein  enges  wigelein.  A  narrow  cradle  unto  thee  ! 


Der  sanimet  vnd  die  seiden  dein,  Tlij  velvet  and  thy  silks,  to-day, 

das  ist  grob  hew  und  windelein,  Are  coarsest  cloth  and  roughest 

hay, 

Darauff  du,  Konig  so  gross  vnd  Whereon    thou,  mighty   King, 

reich,  dost  lie 

her  prangst,  als  wers  dein  Hi-  As  grandly  as  in  Heaven  high. 

melreich. 

Ach,  mein  hertzliebes  Jhesulin,  Ah,  Jesus,  darling  of  my  breast, 

mach  dir  ein  rein  sanfft  bettelin,  Make  thee  a  pure,  soft  bed  of  rest 

Zu     rugen    in     meins    hertzen  Within  my  heart  as  in  a  shrine, 

schrein, 

das  ich  nimer  vergesse  dein.  That  so  I  keep  thy  love  divine. 

Dauon  ich  allzeit  frohlich  sey,  Thence  happy  shall  I  always  be, 

zu  springen,  singen  imer  frey  And  leap  and  sing,  rejoicing  free. 

Das  rechte  Sussaniue  schon,  As    one  who   feels   the   perfect 

tone 

mit  hertzen  lust  den  siissen  thon.  Of  sweet  heart-music  is  his  own. 


Lob,  ehr  sey  Gott   im  hcichsten  Glory  to   God  in    the    Highest 
thron,  spend, 

der  vns  schenckt  seinen  einigen  Who  us  His  only  Son  did  send. 
Son, 

Desfrewen  sich  der  engel  schar.  While  angels  now  sing  hymns 

of  cheer, 

vnd  singen   vns    solchs   newes  To  give  the  world  a  glad  New- 
jar,  year. 


I  make  no  apology  for  quoting  this  simple  strain ; 
for  when  we  have  the  expression  of  a  man's  power  and 
energy  on  the  one  side,  and  of  his  delicacy  of  mind 
and  playful  tenderness  of  heart  on  the  other,  we  haye 


THE  LITERATURE  OF  THE  REFORMATION.      159 

the  hroadest  measure  of  liis  character.  The  influence 
of  Luther  on  German  literature  cannot  be  explained 
until  we  have  seen  how  sound  and  vigorous  and  many- 
sided  was  the  new  spirit  which  he  infused  into  the 
language.  For  it  is  not  simply  the  grand  and  stately 
elements  which  must  be  developed ;  not  the  subtlety 
which  befits  speculation,  or  the  keenness  and  point 
which  are  required  for  satire ;  but  chiefly  the  power  of 
expressing  homely  human  sentiment  and  painting  the 
common  phases  of  life. 

The  hymns — or  rather,  devotional  poems, — written 
by  Luther's  contemporaries,  have  a  greater  or  less 
resemblance  to  his,  in  form  and  style.  The  one  lied  of 
Ulric  von  Hutten,  commencing  "/cA  liaVs  gewagt,'^  has 
the  keenness  of  a  sword-thrust :  those  of  Paul  Eber, 
Hermann,  Nicolai  and  others  vary  according  to  the  tem- 
perament or  talent  of  the  writer,  but  have  a  family  re- 
semblance. Some  are  rough  in  measure  and  almost 
rude  in  diction  ;  others  have  some  fluency  and  melody, 
with  no  special  literary  merit.  To  read  them  after 
Luther,  is  like  reading  Dr.  Watts  after  Milton's  "  Hymn 
on  the  Nativity."  I  do  not  consider  it  necessary  to  give 
any  specimens  of  their  hymns,  except  a  single  verse 
from  that  written  by  the  Duke  John  Frederick,  the 
Magnanimous,  of  Saxony : 

As 't  pleases  God,  so  let  it  pass  ; 

The  birds  may  take  my  sorrow ; 
If  fortune  shun  my  house  to-day. 

I'll  wait  until  to-morrow. 


160  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

The  goods  I  have 

I  still  shall  save. 

Or,  if  some  part  forsake  me. 

Thank  God,  who's  just ; 

What  mnst  be,  must  ; 

Good  luck  may  still  o'ertake  me  ! 

The  secular  poets  of  the  first  half  of  the  sixteenth 
century  may  be  easily  reviewed.  I  find  no  author  of 
note,  except  Hans  Sachs,  although  some  of  the  shorter 
lyrics  of  Weckrlin  and  Andraea  are  more  than  mechani- 
cal verse.  One  of  the  most  prolific  of  this  class  of 
poets  was  Helmbold,  whose  productions  were  almost  as 
plentiful,  and  not  much  more  valuable,  in  a  literary 
sense,  than  the  rhymed  advertisements  of  the  news- 
papers now-a-days. 

Hans  Sachs,  who  was  born  in  1494  and  lived  until 
1576,  must  not  be  confounded  with  the  host  of  Master- 
singers.  He  was  a  man  of  genuine  native  ability,  of 
great  experience  and  unusual  learning.  Educated  at  a 
good  school  as  a  boy,  he  then  became  a  shoemaker, 
traveled  as  a  wandering  journeyman  all  over  Germany, 
from  the  Baltic  to  the  Tyrolese  Alps,  was  a  hunter  in 
Maximilian's  service,  made  the  personal  acquaintance  of 
Luther,  and  returned  to  Nuremberg,  at  the  age  of  twenty- 
two,  to  marry  and  devote  himself  to  poetry.  He  was  in 
easy  circumstances,  and  did  not  need  to  depend  on  his 
trade.  He  knew  all  German  and  the  best  of  classic 
literature,  and  even  ihe  works  of  Petrarch  and  Boccaccio. 
His  glowing  Protestantism  gave  much  of  his  poetry  a 


THE  LITERATURE  OF  THE  REFORMATION.      161 

religious  and  didactic  character,  and  the  soulless  me- 
chanism of  the  Master-craft  is  too  frequently  apparent ; 
but  we  also  meet  with  lyrics  and  short  dramatic  pieces 
which  are  full  of  nature  and  grace,  and  which  charm  us 
by  their  happy  felicity  of  language.  If  we  approve  only 
five  per  cent,  of  his  productions,  we  shall  still  have  three 
hundred  good  works  out  of  six  thousand.  His  narra- 
tive tone  is  sometimes  admirable,  especially  when  he 
describes  the  scenes  and  circumstances  of  the  life  around 
him,  not  inventing,  but  representing  poetically — to  use 
Grimm's  distinction  between  erdichten  and  dichten.  He 
seems  to  be  happiest  when  both  subject  and  sentiment 
are  what  is  called  hiirgerUch,  that  is,  belonging  to  the 
solid,  thrifty  middle  class :  there  is  nothing  of  the  fine 
frenzy  in  him.  Among  English  authors,  I  might  com- 
pare him  to  Crabbe  in  the  qualities  of  careful,  nice  ob- 
servation and  sturdy  good  sense,  but  Crabbe  was  much 
his  inferior  in  grace  and  variety  of  expression.  Lessing 
and  Goethe  were  among  the  first  to  rescue  the  fame  of 
Hans  Sachs  from  the  disrespect  into  which  it  had  fallen, 
under  the  dominion  of  French  taste  in  Germany.  Now, 
the  honest  Master  is  lifted  again  upon  his  proper  pedes- 
tal, and  sits  (to  quote  Longfellow  again) : 

"  as  in  Adam  Puscliman's  song, 
As  the  old  man,  gray  and  dove-like,  with  his  great  beard  white  and 
long." 

I  have  had  some  difficulty  in  selecting  a  single  short 
poem  of  Hans  Sachs,  which  may  illustrate  the  lighter 


162 


GERMAN  LITERATURE. 


and  more  graceful  features  of  liis  Muse.  Every  poem 
is  accomjDanied  by  a  statement  of  its  measure,  whether 
copied  from  an  older  master  or  original  The  latter,  of 
course,  is  the  more  characteristic.  As  scarcely  any- 
thing of  Hans  Sachs  has  ever  been  translated,  I  must 
furnish  at  least  one  specimen ;  and  I  have  taken  a  short 
poem,  which  he  says  was  written  in  1517,  in  his  own 
"  silver  measure." 


DICHTEK  UND  SINGER. 


Icli  lob  ein  briinlein  kiile 

mit  urspmnges  aufwiile 

fur  ein  gross  wasserhiile, 

die  keinen  ursprung  hat. 

Sicli  allein  muss  besechen 

mit  zufliessenden  bechen 

der  briinnlein,  mag  ich  spreclien  ; 

die  liiil  nit  lang  bestat. 

Wan  von  der  sunen  grosser  hitz 

im  sumerlangen  tak 

die  liiil  wirt  faul  und  gar  unniitz, 

gewint  bosen  gescbmak; 

sie  trucknet  ein,  wirt  griin  und 

gelb; 
so  friscliet   sicli   das   briinnlein 

selb 
mit  seinem  uresprunge, 
beleibet  unbezwunge 
von  der  sune  scheinunge, 
es  wirt  nit  faul  nocb  mat. 


n 


Das  briinlein  icli  geleicbe 
einem  dicliter  kunstreiche, 


THE  POET  AND   THE   SINGER. 

I  like  a  fountain,  flowing 
Beside  a  cavern,  showing 
No  token,  in  its  going. 
Of  whence  its  waters  came. 
Itself  must  fill  forever, 
And  by  its  own  endeavor. 
The  urn  of  its  light  river  : 
The  cave  is  not  the  same. 
Wlien  from  the  sun's  increasing 

heat, 
In  days  of  summertime, 
The  cave  is   neither  fresh  nor 

sweet, 
But  smells  of  mould  and  slime. 
And   dries,    and   groweth    rank 

and  green  -, 
Then  doth  the  fount  itself  keep 

clean 
From  out  its  hidden  sources, — 
Conquers  the  sun's  hot  forces 
In  all  its  crystal  courses, 
And  grows  not  foul  nor  dull. 


That  fountain  I  compare  to 
The  poet,  who  doth  swear  to 


TUB  LITEBATURE  OF  THE  REFORMATIOK.      163 


der  gesang  anfenkleiche 
diclitet  aus  klinsten  grunt ; 
Bas  lob  icli  den  mit  rechte 
f  iir  einen  singer  scTileclite, 
der  sein  gesang  enpfeclite 
aus  eines  fremden  munt. 
Wan  so  entspringet  neue  kunst, 
nocli  sherfer,  dan  die  alt, 
des  singers  gesang  ist  umsunst, 
er  wirt  gesckweiget  bait ; 
er  kan  nit  gen  neue  gespor 
sie  sei  im  den  gebanet  vor 
durcli  den  dichter  on  slierzen. 


The  poetry  he's  heir  to  ; 
And  honors  art  the  more. 
But  he — I  say  with  sorrow — 
Is  a  wretched  singer  thorough, 
Who  all  his  songs  must  borrow 
From  what  was  sung  before. 
For  when  new  art  is  born  again, 
Better  than  ancient  tune, 
The  singer's  song  is  all  in  vain  ; 
He  shall  be  silenced  soon  : 
No  effort  of  his  own  avails 
To  follow  on  those  fresher  trails, 
'Gainst  him  whose  fancies  bear 


der  aus  kunstreichem  herzen 
kan  dichten  ane  scherzen 
neu  gesang  alle  stunt. 


Whose  heart  and  art  declare  us. 
That  lightly  he  can  spare  us 
A  new  song  every  hour. 


III. 


Won  alle  kiinst  auf  erden 
teglich  gescherfet  werden 
von  grobheit  und  gef  erden, 
die  man  vor  darin  fant. 
Von  gesang  ich  euch  sage, 

das  er  von  tag  zu  tage 
noch  scherfer  werden  mage 
durch  den  dichter,  verstant. 
Darum  gib  ich  dem  dichter  ganz 

ein  kron  von  rotem  golt 

und    dem     singer    ein    griinen 

kranz. 
darbei  ir  merken  solt  : 
kem  der  singer  aiif  todes  bar, 
sein  kunst  mit  im  al  stirbet  gar  ; 
wirt  der  dichter  begraben, 
sein  kunst  wirt  erst  erhaben 
miintlich  und  in  buchstaben 
gar  weit  in  mengem  lant. 


Our  art,  of  truth  the  mirror. 
Should  daily  be  the  clearer 
Of  coarseness  and  of  error. 
That  erewhile  clouded  it. 
And     song  —  there's    nothing 

surer  ! — 
Should  day  by  day  be  purer. 
And  nobler,  and  securer. 
Made  by  the  poet's  wit. 
Therefore  a  crown  of  red-gold 

sheen 
The  poet  should  receive  ; 
The  singer  but  a  garland  green. 

That  ye  this  truth  believe  : 
Lieth  the  singer  cold  and  dead, 
His  art  with  him  hath  perished  ; 
But  when  the  poet  dieth 
His  art  that  end  denieth. 
And  liveth  still,  and  flieth 
To  many  a  distant  land.  . 


164 


GER3IAN  LITERATURE. 


The  songs  of  tlie  people  continued  to  increase  and  to 
be  sung,  during  the  period  of  the  Eeformation.  It  is  only 
in  them,  in  fact,  that  we  find  the  music  and  the  melody 
of  verse,  of  which  the  devotional  and  didactic  poetry  is 
so  bare.  The  character  of  these  songs  remains  the  same 
as  in  the  previous  century,  but  the  language  shows  a 
great  improvement.  Take  this  lovely  little  "  Hunter's 
Song,"  by  some  unknown  peasant-author : 


Es  jagi;  ein  jeger  wolgem&t  A  hunter  hunted  merrily, 

er  jagt  auss  frischem  freiem  mut     Under  the  leafy  linden-tree  ; 
wol  unter  eine  grune  linden,  His    free,  strong   heart   upbore 

him  ; 
er  jagt  derselben  tierlein  vil  Many  a  beast  he  hunted  down, 

mit  seinen  schnellen  winden.  With  his  greyhounds  fast  before 

him. 


Er  jagt  uber  berg  und  tief e  tal 

under  den  stauden  liberal, 

sein  hornlein  tat  er  blasen  ; 

sein  lieb  under  einer  stauden  sass, 

tet  auf  den  jeger  losen. 


He  sped  through  vale,  o'er 
mountain  cold. 

The  thicket  and  the  bushy 
wold, 

And  blew  his  horn  so  clearly  ; 

But  under  the  boughs  his  sweet- 
heart sat,' 

And  looked  on  him  so  dearly. 


Er  schweift  sein  mantel  in  das 

gras, 
er  bat  sie,  dass  sie  zu  im  sass, 

mit  weissen  armen  umbfangen  : 

"  So     gehab      dich     wol,     mein 
trosterin  ! 
nach  dir  stet  mein  verlangen. 


Upon  the  ground  his  cloak  he 
threw, 

Sat  there,  and  her  beside  him 
drew, 

And  said,  her  white  hand  press- 
ing : 

Well  may'st  thou  fare,  con- 
soler  mine, 

My  one  desire  and  blessing  ! 


THE  LITERATURE  OF  THE  REFORMATION.      165 

"  Ha;  uns  der  reif,  hat  uns  der  "  If  hoar-frost  come,  or  snow  be 
sclme,  seen, 

hat  uns  erfrort  den  griinen  kle,  To  kill  for  us  the  clover  green 

die  bltimlein  auf  der  heiden  :  And  the  blossoms  on  the  heather, 

wo  zwei   herzlieb  bei   einander  Nor  frost  nor  snow  can  part  the 

sind,  twain 

die  zwei  sol  niemant  scheiden. "  Who  love,  and  sit  together  ! " 

Or  this  little  song  of  tlie  "Nettle-Wreath"  : 

"  O  baurnknecht,  lass  die  roslein  ''0  peasant-lad,  let  the  roses  be  ! 
Stan !     • 

sie  sein  nit  dein  ! ._  Not  for  thee  they  blow  ! 

du  tregst  noch  wol  von  nessel-  Thou  wearest  still  of  the  nettle- 
kraut  weed 

ein  krenzelein."  Thy  wreath  of  woe." 

Das  nesselkraut  ist  bitter  und  The  nettle-weed   is    bitter   and 

saur,  sour, 

und  brennet  mich:  And  burneth  me  : 

verlorau  hab  ich  mein  schones  But  that  I  lose  my  fairest  love 

/ieb 

da/  reuwet  mich.  Is  my  misery. 

/j]s  rent  mich  sehr,  und  tut  mir  This  I  lament,  and  thence  my 
/  heart 

in  meinem  herzen  we  :  Is  sad  and  sore  : 

gesegn  dich  gott,  mein   holder  God  keep  thee  now,  lost,  lovely 

bul,  girl ! 

ich  sehe  dich  nimmer  me  !  I  shall  never  see  thee  more. 

At  first  it  may  seem  remarkable  that,  with  such 
elements  as  Luther's  prose  and  the  birth  of  a  true 
poetry  among  the  people,  there  was  not  an  immediate 
revival  of  literature  in  Germany.  The  new  faith,  how- 
ever, did  not  bring  peace,  but  a  sword.  If  arms  silence 
laws,  they  silence  letters  all  the  more  speedily.     The 


166  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

oppressions  of  tlie  feudal  system,  whicli  brouglit  on  tlie 
Peasants'  War  in  Luther's  time,  were  strengthened  by 
the  bloody  failure  of  that  war :  rulers  and  nobles  trod 
out  everT  spark  of  a  claim  for  better  rights  among  the 
people.  Thus,  toward  the  close  of  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury, when  Spain  and  Italy  and  England  were  rejoicing 
in  their  classic  age  of  literature,  the  finer  mind  of  Ger- 
many seemed  to  be  dead.  But  for  Luther's  achieve- 
ments, the  Age  of  the  Reformation  would  seem  to  be  one 
of  baffled  promise,  separated  by  dreary  centuries  from 
the  literature  of  the  Middle  Ages,  on  the  one  hand,  and 
that  of  the  modern  period  on  the  other.  Yet,  as  the 
strong  foundations  of  an  edifice  must  sometimes  wait 
long  for  the  building  of  the  superstructure,  so  here  the 
basis  of  the  later  development  w^as  complete,  and  the 
development  itself  predicted,  in  spite  of  all  delays. 


YL 

THE  LITERATURE  OF  THE  SEVENTEENTH  CENTURY. 

In  our  journey  downward,  from  the  earliest  period 
of  German  literature,  we  have  traversed  very  different 
regions.  We  found  ourselves,  at  the  start,  as  in  a  rough 
land  of  mountains  and  dark  fir  forests,  inhabited  by  a 
strong  and  simple  race.  There  are  meadows  and  fresh 
clearings  in  the  valleys,  but  from  the  deeper  gorges  we 
hear  the  chant  of  Druids  and  the  harps  of  the  last 
Bardic  singers.  Then  Ave  issue  upon  a  long,  barren 
waste,  beyond  which  lies  the  bright,  busy,  crowded  land 
of  the  Middle  Ages,  with  its  castles  and  cathedrals,  its 
marches  and  tournaments,  its  mingled  costumes  of  the 
East  and  the  West,  its  echoes  of  Palestine  and  Provence, 
of  Brittany  and  Cornwall.  Then  again  comes  a  waste, 
through  which  we  walk  wearily  for  a  long  time,  before 
we  reach  a  new  region — a  land  of  earnest  workers  and 
builders,  where  the  first  resting-place  we  find  is  the 
block  of  a  new  edifice,  not  yet  lifted  to  its  place — a  land 
of  change  and  preparation,  overhung  by  a  doubtful  sky, 
but  overblown  by  a  keen,  bracing  air,  in  which  the  race 
again  grows  strong.  We  have  now  one  more  long,  half- 
settled  stretch  of  monotonous  plain  to  traverse,  before 

167 


168  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

finding  the  work  of  the  builders  completed,  and  the 
substructures  of  thought  risen  into  temples  which  stand 
fair  and  firm  under  a  sky  of  eternal  sunshine. 

It  is  impossible  for  me,  now,  to  give  even  a  flying 
explanation  of  the  many  depressing  influences  which 
operated  directly  upon  the  literary  activity  of  the  Ger- 
man people  during  the  latter  half  of  the  sixteenth  and 
the  whole  of  the  seventeenth  century.  I  can  only  name 
the  chief  of  them :  first,  the  change  in  the  spirit  and 
character  of  the  Reformation,  after  the  Peasants'  War, 
and  again  after  Luther's  death,  coupled  with  the  in- 
fluence of  the  nobles  and  the  ruling  princes,  who  were 
at  once  despotic  and  indifferent  to  letters;  then  the 
terrible  Thirty  Years'  War, — the  cruelest  infliction  to 
which  any  people  were  ever  exposed ;  and,  finally,  the 
subjection  of  Germany  to  the  tastes  and  the  fashions 
of  France  and  of  French  thought. 

Although  Luther  had  created  the  modern  High-Ger- 
man on  the  basis  of  the  common  speech  of  the  peo- 
ple, and  forced  the  Low-German  into  the  position  of  a 
dialect,  the  dry  theological  tendency  of  his  successors 
interfered  directly  with  his  work.  The  true  beginning 
of  a  new  literature  having  been  found,  it  could  only  be 
developed  in  the  same  direction.  But  when  the  demo- 
cratic element  in  the  Reformation  was  suppressed,  the 
popular  mine  of  speech  which  Luther  discovered  was  no 
longer  worked.  Indeed  the  religious  principle,  which 
was  inherited  by  the  next  generation,  became  a  different 


LITERATURE  OF  THE  SEVENTEENTH  CENTURY.    1G9 

agency  from  that  wliicli  liacl  been  attained  tlirough 
struggle  and  sacrifice.  It  liad  no  longer  the  same  vital, 
informing  power  ;  and  it  settled  rapidly  into  a  dogma- 
tism only  less  rigid  than  that  of  the  Church  of  Pvome. 
Not  only  the  literary  interests  suffered  under  this  state 
of  things,  but  the  very  language  became  corrupted  by 
neglect  and  the  style  of  ignorant  and  pretentious  writers. 
In  the  beginning  of  the  seventeenth  century.  Dr.  Fabri- 
cius  writes  :  "  Our  German  tongue  is  not  to  that  extent 
poor  and  decayed,  as  many  persons  would  now  have  us 
believe,  so  patching  and  larding  it  wdth  French  and 
Italian,  that  they  cannot  even  send  a  little  letter  with- 
out furbishing  it  with  other  languages,  so  that  one,  in 
order  to  understand  it,  ought  to  know  all  the  tongues 
of  Christendom,  to  the  great  disgrace  and  injury  of  our 
German  language."  It  was  probably  the  same  circum- 
stance which  led  Fischart  to  write,  a  little  earlier  :  "  Our 
language  is  also  a  language,  and  can  call  a  sack  a  sack,  as 
well  as  the  Latins  can  call  it  a  saccus." 

Directly  following  this  haughty  indifference  of  the 
higher  class,  this  spiritual  degeneracy  of  the  middle 
class,  and  the  suppression  of  the  claims  of  the  common 
people,  came  the  Thirty  Tears'  War, — that  terrible  period 
from  which  Germany,  in  a  material  and  political  sense, 
has  been  nearly  two  hundred  years  in  recovering. 
Whole  regions  were  so  devastated  that  the  wolf  and  the 
bear  resumed  their  original  ownership  ;  the  slow  edu- 
cation of  centuries  was  swept  away  ;  a  second  barba- 
8 


170  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

rism,  worse  than  tlie  first,  in  some  instances  took  its 
place ;  and  tlie  Westplialian  Peace  left  a  land  broken 
and  despoiled  of  nearly  everything,  except  the  power  of 
the  rulers  over  their  subjects.  I  have  seen  more  thar 
one  district  of  Germany  which,  in  1850,  had  just  re- 
covered the  same  amount  of  population,  of  cattle  and  of 
agricultural  productions  which  it  possessed  before  the 
year  1618.  It  is  only  by  such  statements  that  we  can 
measure  the  results  of  that  struggle.  The  Germany  of 
to-day  is  not  the  work  of  its  petty  princes,  not  the  work 
of  the  sham  emperors,  whose  "  holy  Koman"  sceptre 
was  the  symbol  of  imaginary  power,  but  the  work  of  the 
people,  liberated,  educated,  conscious  of  their  strength 
and  grand  in  exercising  it. 

When  we  have  studied  the  history  of  Germany  suffi- 
ciently to  comprehend  the  constant,  almost  indescrib- 
able trials  and  sufferings  of  the  people  during  this 
period,  we  no  longer  wonder  at  their  retarded  intellec- 
tual development.  But  for  an  infinite  patience  and 
courage,  they  must  have  lost  their  national  identity,  like 
the  Goths  and  Burgundians.  But,  as  we  have  seen, 
much  good  seed  had  been  planted,  and  such  seed  will 
always  germinate,  though  held  in  the  hand  of  an  Egyp- 
tian mummy  for  three  thousand  years.  It  was  only  a 
delayed,  not  a  prevented  growth.  Two  men  then  arose 
who  belong  to  the  greatest  minds  of  the  world— two 
men  whose  peculiar  labors  abstracted  them  from  the 
miserable   circumstances   into  which   they  were    born, 


LITERATURE  OF  THE  SEYENTEENTR  CENTURY.     171 

and  rendered  them  comparatively  independent  of  tlieir 
time.  Tliey  were  Kepler  and  Leibnitz.  One  belongs  to 
science,  and  tlie  other  to  philosophy.  But  Kepler  is 
hardly  to  be  called  an  author,  and  Leibnitz  wrote 
chiefly  in  Latin,  and  therefore  hardly  connects  himself 
with  German  literature. 

The  one  author  who  especially  represents  the  latter 
half  of  the  sixteenth  century  is  Johannes  Fischart. 
We  know  very  little  about  his  life — not  even  the  proba- 
ble date  of  his  birth ;  but  only  that  he  was  a  jurist  and 
theologian,  that  he  lived  in  Strasburg,  Speyer  and  For- 
bach,  that  he  traveled  much,  having  visited  England, 
and  was  acquainted  with  many  languages.  He  was 
partly  a  contemporary  of  Shakespeare,  to  whose  portrait 
his  own  has  some  resemblance,  and  whom  he  resembled 
also  in  the  wonderful  breadth  and  variety  of  his  accom- 
plishments. Although  his  works  were  quite  popular 
during  his  life,  they  seem  to  have  been  wholly  forgotten 
at  the  close  of  the  Thirty  Years'  War,  and  his  name  was 
almost  unknown  when  revived  by  the  late  recognition 
of  Bodmer  and  Lessing.  There  was  really,  in  the  long 
interval  between  his  death  and  the  birth  of  these  men, 
no  author  of  sufficient  scope  to  appreciate  his  works, 
unless  it  was  Frederick  v.  Logau,  who  probably  never 
heard  of  him. 

The  first  thing  which  strikes  us  in  Fischart  is  his 
style,  which  reminds  us  of  Kabelais,  and  sometimes  of 
Bichter.     His  vocabulary  is  inexhaustible,  and  his  sati- 


172  GERMAJS  LITERATURE. 

rical  humor  never  wearies.  He  is  quite  equal  to  Rabe- 
lais in  the  invention  of  comical  words,  and  it  is  therefore 
almost  impossible  to  translate  many  of  his  best  pas- 
sages. He  even  transforms,  or  Germanizes  with  great 
humor,  words  of  foreign  origin,  constituting,  in  fact,  a 
very  curious  form  of  punning, — as  iiielancliolisch,  which 
he  turns  into  maid'Mng-choUscJi,2^odagra  into  j)/oten-gramy 
and  Jesuiter  into  Jesu-ivider.  Such  specimens  will  give 
you  an  idea  of  his  peculiar  manner.  In  a  sort  of  gro- 
tesque absurdity,  he  was  the  forerunner  of  a  class  of 
American  authors  who  are  now  attempting  to  make 
everything  in  the  world  comical  for  us,  from  the  raising 
of  potatoes  to  the  massacre  of  St.  Bartholomew;  but, 
unlike  those  American  authors,  his  fun  rests  on  a  broad 
foundation  of  learning,  and  is  constantly  softened  and 
lightened  by  a  noble  humanity.  When  his  humor  is 
apparently  most  lawless  and  chaotic,  he  never  loses 
sight  of  its  chosen  object.  'Even  his  "Aller  Practik 
Grossrmitter,"  which  seems  to  be  a  collection  of  absurdi- 
ties, was  meant  to  cure  the  people  of  their  dependence 
on  soothsayers  and  prognosticating  almanacs.  I  regret 
that  I  have  not  had  time  to  attempt  the  translation  of  a 
few  passages,  in  which  Fischart's  remarkable  humor 
and  style  might  be  preserved ;  but  in  order  to  give  any- 
thing like  a  fair  representation  of  his  comic  genius  in 
English,  we  should  have  to  find  a  man  like  Urquhart, 
the  translator  of  Eabelais,  and  such  translators  appear 
as  rarelv  as  the  original  authors. 


LITERATURE  OF  THE  SEVENTEENTH  CENTURY.    173 

I  can  give  only  a  little  specimen  of  liis  serious  prose, 
from  Ins  "  Book  of  Conjugal  Virtue,"  wherein  he  com- 
pares matrimony  to  a  ship : 

On  tlie  sea  the  wind  is  the  governing  power ;  in  the  household  it 
is  God.  In  this  house- ship,  trust  in  God  fills  the  sails  favorably  :  the 
mast,  to  which  the  sails  are  fastened,  is  the  Divine  institution  of  mar- 
riage :  the  anchor  is  a  believing,  enduring  hope.  The  ship's  tackle  is 
the  house-furniture  ;  the  freight  is  all  household  service ;  the  crew 
are  those  who  perform  it :  the  sea  is  the  world,  the  great  sea-waves 
are  the  many  troubles  and  anxieties  which  come  to  the  house-folks,  in 
trjing  to  support  themselves  in  honor.  The  tacking  of  the  ship 
is  the  going  out  and  in :  the  lading  and  unlading  are  the  expenses 
and  the  incomes.  Shipwreck  is  the  ruin  that  comes  upon  a  house, 
either  from  dying  away  of  the  wind  of  God,  or  from  the  slack,  evil 
sails  of  mistrust,  or  from  dissipated  courses. 

The  shrouds  on  the  mast  are  a  good  conscience  ;  the  pennon  at  the 
mast-head  is  faith  in  God,  the  compass  is  the  commandments  of  God. 
The  rudder  is  Obedience,  the  figure-head  at  the  prow  is  the  fear  and 
honor  of  God.  The  deck  is  decent  life  and  fidelity  of  them  that  serve. 
Pirates  are  the  devils  that  disturb  married  life,  and  the  envious  who 
attack  the  house-ship.  And  finally,  even  as  the  islands  of  the  sea, — 
yea,  half  the  world — were  not  inhabited  save  for  navigation,  so  lands 
and  places  would  be  desolate,  but  for  the  households  of  marriage. 
And  as  unto  him  who  goes  to  sea  the  sailing  prospers,  so  he  prospers 
in  his  household  who  applies  an  honest  art  and  skill  thereto.  Not 
unjustly  do  we  compare  a  household  to  a  vessel,  since  the  first  house 
and  the  first  house-keeping,  during  and  after  the  Deluge,  were  a  ship 
and  in  a  ship. 

Fischart  was  a  man  of  strong  religious  and  patriotic 
feelings.  In  his  "  Serious  Warning  to  the  beloved  Ger- 
mans," he  gives  a  picture  of  what  Germany  then  was 
and  what  she  should  be,  which  will  apply  to  the  history 
of  the  first  half  of  this  century.  "  What  honor  is  it  to 
you,"  he  asks,  "that  you  praise  the  old  Germans  because 


174  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

the  J  fought  for  their  freedom,  because  they  suffered  no 
bad  neighbors  to  molest  them?  And  you  disregard 
your  own  freedom,  you  can  hardly  be  secure  in  your 
own  land,  you  allow  your  neighbor  to  tie  his  horse,  head 
and  tail,  to  your  hedge."  Fischart  was  a  native  of 
Elsass,  and  the  neighbor,  of  course,  was  France.  In 
another  poem,  he  exclaims :  "  The  flower  of  freedom  is 
the  loveliest  blossom !  May  God  let  this  excellent  flower 
expand  in  Germany  everyw^here :  then  come  j^eace,  joy, 
rest  and  renown ! " 

Fischart  first  introduced  the  Italian  sonnet  into  Ger- 
man literature.  His  poetical  versions  of  some  of  the 
Psalms  more  nearly  approach  Luther's  in  rugged  gran- 
deur than  those  of  any  other  writer  of  the  time ;  but  his 
verse  lacks  the  ease  and  the  animation  of  his  prose.  As 
a  prose  writer,  he  gives  exactly  that  element  to  the  lan- 
guage which  the  Reformers  could  not  furnish  in  their 
graver  works — an  element  of  playful  and  grotesque 
humor  which  does  not  again  appear  until  we  find  it  in 
Eichter.  But  Fischart,  coming  after  Luther  and  profit- 
ing by  his  labors,  cannot  be  called  a  founder.  Had  he 
fallen  upon  other  times — for  instance  on  an  age  of  dra- 
matic literature,  like  Shakespeare — his  great  natural 
powers  might  have  been  more  broadly  and  happily  de- 
veloped. As  in  the  case  of  Wolfram  von  Eschenbach, 
we  feel  that  the  man  must  have  been  greater  than  his 
works. 

I  have  mentioned  the  corruption  which  came  upon  the 


LITKRATVRE  OF  THE  SEVENTEENTH  CENTURY.    I75 

language  about  the  close  of  the  sixteenth  century,  and 
have  given  you  two  instances  to  show  that  it  was  griev- 
ously felt  by  men  of  intelligence.  In  spite  of  the  con- 
tinual religious  and  political  agitation,  the  class  of  cul- 
tivated 2:)ersons  slowly  increased :  the  need  of  a  literary 
reformation  was  recognized,  and  finally,  in  1617,  a  year 
before  the  breaking  out  of  the  Thirty  Years'  War,  a 
society  was  formed,  on  the  model  of  those  Italian  litera- 
ry associations,  some  of  which  exist  to  this  day.  It  was 
called  the  "  Fruit-bringing  Society,"  or  the  "  Order  of 
the  Palm"  :  its  chief  object  was  to  restore  and  preserve 
the  purity  of  the  German  tongue.  It  seems  like  an 
omen  of  the  future  that  this  society — the  first  sign  of 
a  distinct  literary  aspiration  since  the  Crusades — should 
have  been  founded  in  the  Duchy  of  Weimar.  It  was 
followed  by  the  "  Sincere  Society  of  the  Pine,"  in  Stras- 
burg,  in  1633 ;  the  "  German-thinking  Brotherhood,"  in 
Hamburg,  in  16-13,  and  various  later  associations,  the 
objects  of  Avhich  were  identical  or  related.  Now,  al- 
though literature  cannot  be  created  by  societies,  lite- 
rary influence  can  be ;  and  it  was  a  member  of  the  Order 
of  the  Palm  whose  example  and  success  made  the  High- 
German  the  exclusive  language  of  poetry,  as  Luther,  a 
hundred  years  before,  had  made  it  the  language  of 
prose. 

I  allude  to  Martin  Opitz,  the  founder  of  what  is  called 
the  Silesian  school.  He  was  born  in  1597,  some  years 
after  Fischart's  death,  and  died  in  1639.     His  short  life 


1 76  GERMAN  LITER  A  TURE. 

was  one  of  such  successful  labor,  when  we  consider  the 
unfortunate  time,  that  his  deserts,  on  account  of  what 
he  did  for  the  language,  overbalance  the  harm  which  he 
inflicted  upon  the  popular  taste  bj  a  false  system.  His 
prose  work,  upon  the  principles  of  German  poetry, 
written  in  1624,  declared,  in  advance,  the  character  of 
nearly  all  the  poetic  literature  of  the  century.  His 
doctrine  is,  briefly,  that  the  author  should  use  only  the 
pure  High-German;  that  he  should  draw  his  themes 
from  Nature,  but  not  describe  things  as  they  are,  so 
much  as  represent  them  as  they  might  be,  or  ought  to 
be  ;  and,  finally,  that  his  only  models  should  be  the 
classic  authors.  Opitz  seems  to  have  followed  the 
French  work  of  Scaliger,  and  his  views  therefore  har- 
monize with  that  of  the  French  classical  school  of  the 
time.  He  was  both  crowned  as  a  poet  and  ennobled 
by  the  Emperor  Ferdinand  ;  he  received  official  stations 
and  honors,  and  his  influence  thus  became  much  more 
extended  and  enduring  than  the  character  of  his  works 
would  now  lead  us  to  suppose.  We  can  scarcely  say, 
in  fact,  that  he  was  taken  down  fi'om  his  lofty  pedestal 
until  about  the  middle  of  the  last  century.  But  the 
establishment  of  the  literary  societies  and  the  example 
of  Opitz  certainly  saved  verse,  in  those  days,  from  the 
disgraceful  condition  into  which  prose  had  fallen ;  for, 
while  the  prose  writers  of  the  seventeenth  century 
utterly  lack  the  strength  and  dignity  and  tenderness 
and  idiomatic  picturesqueness  of  those  of  the  Eefor- 


LITERATURE  OF  THE  SEVENTEENTH  CENTURY.    I77 

mation,  either  expressing  themselves  awkwardly  and 
laboriously,  or  showing  the  taint  of  a  vulgar  dialect, 
the  poets,  with  all  their  pedantry  and  affectation, 
are  always  admirably  pure  in  language  and  careful  in 
diction. 

Opitz  was  a  man  of  the  world,  with  more  ambition 
than  principle.  A  Protestant,  he  could  become  the 
secretary  of  Count  Dohna,  who  used  torture  to  force 
Catholicism  upon  his  Silesian  vassals ;  a  German,  he 
died  in  the  service  of  the  King  of  Poland.  We  could 
not  expect  to  find  the  fiery  sincerity  of  a  true  poet  ex^ 
pressed  in  such  a  life ;  and  we  do  not  find  it  in  his 
works.  In  form  and  language  he  is  almost  perfect : 
within  the  limits  which  he  fixed  for  himself,  he  displays 
an  exquisite  taste,  and  we  cannot  come  upon  his  works, 
directly  from  those  which  immediately  preceded  them, 
without  a  sudden  surprise  and  pleasure.  Take  the  two 
opening  stanzas  of  his  poem  "  To  the  Germans,"  which 
seems  to  have  been  inspired  by  some  event  of  the 
Thirty  Years'  War : 

Auff ,  aujff ,  wer  Teutsche   Frey-  Up,  now !  who  German  Freedom 

lieit  liebet,  loveth, 

Wer  Lust,  fiir  Gott  zu  fechten  And  wlio  for   God  is   proud  to 

hat !  bleed  ! 

Der   Schein,   den    mancher  von  Mere  show  of  faith,  that  many 

sich  giebet  moveth, 

Verbringet  keine  Ritter-that.  Was   never   nurse  of    knightly 

deed  ! 

Wann   fug  vnd  Vrsach  ist  zu  When  need  and  cause  command 

brechen,  decision, 

8* 


178 


GERMAIN  LITERATURE. 


\Yan  Feind  nicht  Freund  melir       'SMien  former  friends  as  foes  we 

bleiben  kan,  ban, 

Da  muss   man   nur  vom  Selien       Then  speecli  must  follow  clearer 

spreclien,  vision, 

Da  zeigt  das  Hertze  seinen  Mann.     And  by  liis  heart  we  know  the 

man. 


Lass    die    von    jhren    Krafften 

sagen. 
Die  schwach  vnd  bloss  von  Tu- 

gend  sind  : 
Mit   trotzen   wird   man    Bienen 

jagen, 
Ein  Sinn  von  Ehren,  der  gewinnt. 
Wie  gross  vnd  starck  der  Feind 

sich  mache, 
Wie  hoch  er  schwinge  Muth  vnd 

Scliwerd, 
So  glaube  doch,  die  gute  Sache 

1st    hundert     tausend     KdpfEe 
werth. 


They    on    their    strength    may 

prate  reliance 
AVhose  virtue  's  weak,  and  bare, 

and  cold  : 
'Tis    chasing    bees    to  talk   de- 
fiance. 
But  Honor  wins  because  'tis  bold  ! 
Though  mightily  the   foe  may 

face  us, 
And  wave  a   sword  that  terror 

spreads. 
The  cause  each  true   man  now 

embraces 
Is   worth   a   hundred   thousand 

heads ! 


This  is  almost  the  German  of  to-daj.  The  quaint, 
archaic  character  of  Fischart's  verses  and  Eber's  hymns 
has  suddenly  disappeared ;  we  hear  only  familiar  words 
and  melodies.  From  this  time  forward  the  language  of 
German  poetry  is  modern,  and  the  authors  must  be 
valued  according  to  our  present  standards.  I  will  quote 
one  other  brief  lyric  of  Opitz,  as  an  example  of  his  oc- 
casional grace  and  sweetness : 


EILE   DER   LIEBE. 

Ach  liebste,  lass  vns  eilen, 

Wir  haben  zeit  : 
Es  schadet  das  verweilen 

Vns  beyderseit. 


THE   HASTE   OF  LOVE. 
Ah,  sweetheart,  let  us  hurry! 

We  still  have  time. 
Delaying  thus  we  bury 

Our  mutual  prime. 


LITEUATUnE  OF  THE  SEVENTEENTH  CENTURY.   179 


Der  edlen  schonlieit  Gaben 

Flielm  fuss  f iir  fuss, 
Dass  alles,  was  wir  liaben, 

Verschwinden  muss. 

Der  Wangen  Ziehr  verbleicliet, 
Das  Haar  wird  greiss, 

Der  Augen  Fewer  weichet. 
Die  Brunst  wird  Eiss. 

Das  Miindlein  von  Corallen 

Wird  vngestalt. 
Die  Hand  als  Sclmee  verfallen, 

Ynd  du  wirst  alt. 

Drumb  lass  vns  jetzt  geniessen 

Der  Jugecd  Frucht, 
Eb'  als  wir  folgen  miissen 

Der  Jabre  Flucbt. 

Wo  du  dicb  selber  liebest, 

So  liebe  mich  ! 
Gieb  mir  das,  wann  du  giebest 

Verlier  aucb  ich. 


Beauty's  brigbt  gift  shall  perish 

As  leaves  grow  sere  : 
All  that  we  have  and  cherish 

Shall  disappear. 

The  cheek  of  roses  fadeth. 

Gray  grows  the  head  ; 
And  fire  the  eyes  evadeth. 

And  passion 's  dead. 

The  mouth,  love's  honeyed  win- 
ner. 
Is  formless,  cold ; 
The  hand,  like  snow,  gets  thin- 
ner, 
And  thou  art  old  ! 

So  let  us  taste  the  pleasure 

That  youth  endears, 
Ere  we  are  called,  to  measure 

The  flying  years  ! 

Give,  as  thou  lov'st  and  livest, 

Thy  love  to  me. 
Even    though,    in    what     thou 
givest, 

My  loss  should  be  ! 


The  tendency  of  tlie  literary  societies,  like  that  of 
the  guilds  of  the  Master-singers,  was  to  increase  the 
quantity  of  aspirants  for  poetic  honors,  while  unfavor- 
ably affecting  the  quality  of  their  productions.  It  is 
probable  that  the  despotism  of  the  French,  or  pseudo- 
classical  ideas,  was  as  severe,  in  its  way,  as  the  metrical 
rules  of  the  Masters  ;  but  it  was  a  despotism  of  princi- 
ples, not  of  mechanical  forms.  The  number  of  Avriters 
during  the  century  was  greater  than  that  of  the  six- 


180  GFAUIAN  LITERATURE. 

teentli,  and,  if  we  set  aside  Lntlier  and  Fiscliart  from 
the  latter,  their  average  performance  v.  as  of  a  higher 
quality.  It  appears  to  be  a  level  which  we  are  crossing, 
but  there  is  a  gradual  ascending  slope  perceptible,  if 
we  look  a  little  closer.  There  is,  fortunately,  such  a 
radical  difference  of  spirit  between  the  German  and  the 
French  languages  that  the  power  of  imitation  is  limited : 
the  French  models  could  not  be  reproduced  without 
losing  much  of  their  original  character.  Moreover,  the 
religious  element,  to  some  extent,  operated  against  the 
foreign  influence  in  literature  ;  for,  about  the  middle  of 
the  century,  the  dry  theological  life  which  succeeded 
the  Reformation  was  quickened  by  a  change.  Paul 
Gerhardt,  and  after  him  especially  Spener,  inaugurated 
a  mild,  gentle,  half  ecstatic  form  of  devotion,  which  in- 
fected large  classes  throughout  Germany,  and  continued 
to  exist  and  oj^erate  in  the  following  century.  It  was 
rather  a  sentiment  than  an  active  force  ;  and  coming  im- 
mediately after  the  misery  of  the  desolating  war,  it  had 
something  of  the  character  of  those  prayer-meetings 
which  business  men  hold  in  Wall  Street  during  a  finan- 
cial crisis,  and  at  no  other  time  ;  yet  it  was  genuine, 
and  it  was  wholly  German — therefore  a  good  and  ne- 
cessary agency,  which  operated  indirectly  upon  litera- 
ture. 

The  seventeenth  century  is  therefore  interesting  to 
us  as  a  field  of  conflicting  influences,  and  it  is  curious 
to  see  how  they  sometimes  unconsciously  existed  side 


LITERATURE  OF  THE  SEVENTEENTH  CENTURY.    181 

bj  side.     The  Order  of  the  Palm,  for  instance,  contained 
nine  noble  members  to  one  commoner, — that  is,  nine 
who  habitually  used  the  French,  as  a  court-language,  yet 
were  associated  in  order  to  i3reserYe  the  purity  of  Ger- 
man!    Many  of  the  poets  of  the  Silesian  school  were 
nobles;   and  by  the  middle  of  the  century  the  reigning 
Saxon  princes  began  to  imitate  the  course  of  their  pre- 
decessors, four  or  five  hundred  years  before,  in  patron- 
izing Literature.     The  field  of  letters,  which  had  pre- 
viously been  Suabia,  Franconia  and  the  Upper  Ehine, 
was  now  suddenly  transferred  to  Saxony  and   Silesia, 
and  all  the  noted  authors  of  the  century  were  produced 
there.     Fully  as  many  writers  appeared  as  during  the 
age  of  the  Minnesingers,  and  the  proportion  of  inferior 
talent  is  about  the  same.     I  must  necessarily  adopt  the 
same  plan  in  treating  of  them— select  the  few  who  lift 
themselves  above  the  general  level  of  mediocrity,  and 
let  the  rest  go,  for  the  present.     The  standard  of  lan- 
guage and  the  general  character  of  diction,  which  Opitz 
established,  were  followed  by  all  his  successors,  and  for 
this  reason  our  study  of  the  age  and  its  irregular  growth 
is  greatly  lightened. 

The  next  poet,  in  the  order  of  birth,  was  Paul  Flem- 
ming,  whose  short  life,  from  1609  to  1640,  interests  us  as 
much,  by  its  consistent  manliness  and  truth,  as  we  are 
repelled  by  the  worldliness  and  want  of  principle  of 
Martin  Opitz.  Longfellow,  you  will  remember,  gives 
Paul  Flemming's  name  to  the  hero  of  his  "Hyperion.'* 


182  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

He  was  a  Saxon,  the  son  of  a  wealthy  clergyman.  As 
a  joung  man  he  was  attached  to  an  embassy  sent  by  the 
Duke  of  Schleswig-Holstein  to  Moscow,  and  imme- 
diatelj  after  his  return,  joined  the  famous  embassy  to 
Persia  which  was  described  by  Olearius.  The  priva- 
tions of  this  journey,  which  occupied  four  years,  so 
undermined  his  health  that  he  died  in  a  year  after  his 
return  to  Germany.  He  had  just  taken  the  degree  of 
Doctor  of  Medicine  at  Leyden,  had  settled  in  Hamburg, 
and  was  preparing  for  his  marriage,  when  he  was  called 
away,  leaving  a  beautiful  legacy  in  his  j^oems.  He  sur- 
passes Opitz,  who  was  his  model,  in  warmth  and  ten- 
derness and  sincerity  of  tone.  There  is  less  of  a  cold, 
hard,  exquisite  polish  manifest  in  his  lines,  but  they 
are  more  simply  melodious  and  fluent.  If  Opitz,  in  his 
manner  only,  reminds  us  somewhat  of  Pope,  Flemming 
has  a  slight  resemblance  to  Collins.  He  possesses  one 
quality  which  was  developed  by  his  many  years  of 
travel,  which  distinguishes  him  from  all  other  writers 
of  his  time,  and  which,  had  he  lived,  might  have  given 
him  a  much  greater  eminence :  he  had  a  clear,  objective 
power  of  looking  at  the  world  and  the  life  of  men. 
After  the  age  of  twenty-four,  but  two  years  of  his  life 
were  spent  in  Germany  ;  and  he  was  denied  that  rest  and 
quiet  development  which  might  have  emancipated  him 
from  the  literary  fashions  in  which  he  was  educated. 
That  he  would  have  so  emancipated  himself  I  think  is 
certain ;  for  he  shows  so  clear  and  healthy  a  vision,  so 


LITERATURE  OF  THE  SEVENTEENTH  CENTURY.    183 

broad  and  warm  a  humanity.  His  power  of  descrip- 
tion, moreover,  was  remarkably  vigorous  and  pictu- 
resque. The  opening  of  his  poem  on  a  cavalry  soldier 
reminds  us  at  once  of  old  George  Chapman  and  of 
Schiller : 

Ein  frischer  Heldenmulit  ist  tiber  alle  Schatze, 

.  St  iiber  alien  Neid  :  er  selbst  ist  sein  Gesetze, 

Sein  Mahl,  sein  Sold,  sein  Preiss.     Er  reisset  durch  die  Zeit, 

Vergnliget  sicli  durch  sich,  lasst  bey  sich  Rub'  und  Streit, 

Inn  gleicher  Waage  stehn. 

In  all  that  Paul  Flemming  wrote — in  his  warlike 
alexandrines,  in  his  hymns,  his  sonnets,  and  in  his  lyrics 
and  madrigals — I  find  an  equal  excellence.  For  sweet- 
ness and  a  delicate  play  of  fancy,  some  of  his  sonnets 
approach  those  of  Petrarch,  and  there  is  more  genuine 
passion  in  the  address  to  his  soul,  entitled  "  Why  de- 
layest  thou?"  than  in  all  Opitz  ever  wrote.  Flem- 
ming's  poems  were  first  collected  and  published,  two 
years  after  his  death,  by  the  father  of  his  betrothed 
bride.  The  sonnet  which  he  wrote  on  his  death-bed  is 
a  good  illustration  both  of  his  genius  and  his  fine 
manhood : 

Icb  war  an  Kunst  und  Gut,  an  In  art,  wealth,  standing,  was  I 

Stande  gross  und  reich,  strong  and  free  ; 

Dess  Gliickes  lieber  Sobn,  von  Of    honored    parents,    fortune's 

Eltern  guter  Ehren,  chosen  son, 

Frey,   Meine ;    knnte   mich   aus  Free,  and  mine  own,  and  mine 

meinen  Mitteln  nehren  ;  own  substance  won  ; 

Mein  shall  fioh  iiberweit  :  kein  I  woke  far  echoes, — no  one  sang 

Landsmaun  sang  mir  gleich  ,  like  me  ; 


184 


GERMAN  LITERATURE. 


Von   reisen    hocligepreist  ;    f  iir 

keiner  Miilie  bleich ; 
Jung,  waclisam,  unbesorgt.   Man 

wird  mich  nennen  horen, 
Biss  dass  die  lezte  Glut  diss  al- 

les  wird  verstoren. 
Diss,    Deutsclie     Klarien,    diss 

gantze  danck  ich  Euch  1 
Verzeiht  niirs,  bin   icbs  wertli, 

GottjVater,  Liebste,  Freunde? 
Ich   sag  Eucli  gute   Nacbt   und 

trete  willig  ab : 
Sonst  alles  ist  getban  biss  an  das 

scbwartze  Grab. 
Was  frej  dem  Tode  stebt,  das 

tbu  er  seinem  Feinde  ! 
Was  bin   icb  viel  besorgt,  den 

Otbem  auffzugeben? 
An  mir  ist  minder  nicbts,  das 

lebet,  als  niein  Leben! 


Praised   for  my  travels,  toiling 

cheerfully. 
Young,      watchful,      eager,  — 

named  for  what  I've  done, 
Till    the   last    sands   of    earthy 

time  be  run. 
This,  German   Muses,  was  your 

legacy  ! 
God,  Father,  Dearest,  Friends, 

is  my  worth  so  ? 
I  say  good  night,  and  now  must 

disappear : 
The  black  grave  waits,  all  else 

is  finished  here  : 
What  Death  may  do,  that  do  he 

to  his  foe  ! 
To  yield  my  breath  shall  bring 

me  little  strife  : 
There's    naught  of    life    in   me 

that  less  lives  than  my  life  I 


I  give  one  more  example, 
strength  and  grace : 


for  the  sake  of  its  brief 


Lass  dich  uur  nichts  nicht  tauren 

mit  trauren  ! 

Sey  stille  ! 
Wie  Gott  es  f  iigt. 
So  sey  vergniigt, 

Mein  Wille ! 


My    soul,    no    dark    depression 
borrow 

From  sorrow  I 
Be  still  ! 
As  God  disposeth  now. 
Be  cheerful  thou. 
My  will ! 


Was  wilst  du  heute  sorgen 

auff  morgen? 

der  eine 
steht  allem  fiir; 
Der  giebt  auch  dir 

das  deine  1 


To-day,  why  wilt   thou  trouble 
borrow. 

For  to-morrow? 
One  alone 
Careth  for  all  that  be  : 
He'll  give  to  thee 

Thine  own  J 


LITERATURE  OF  THE  SEVENTEENTH  CENTURY.    185 

Sey  nur  in  alien  Handel  Stand,  then,  whatever  's  under. 

taken, 

olin  Wandel,  Unshaken  ! 

Steh'  f este  !  Lift  up  thy  breast ! 

Was  Gott  beschleust,  Whatso  thy  God  ordains, 

das  ist  und  heisst  Is  and  remains 

das  beste.  The  best ! 


Paul  Flemming  is  another  instance,  like  Schiller  and 
Burns  and  Charles  Lamb,  where  the  quality  of  the 
author's  character  becomes  a  part  of  his  fame.  One 
who  knows  nothing  of  his  personal  history  will  feel  his 
nature  in  his  works.  I  should  like  to  linger  longer  in 
his  company,  but  the  mild  eyes  of  Simon  Dach,  the 
huge  wig  of  Gryphius,  and  the  modest  dignity  of  Fried- 
rich  von  Logan's  attitude  warn  me  that  we  are  not  yet 
halfway  through  the  century. 

Of  Simon  Dach  there  is  little  to  be  said.  He  was 
born  on  the  eastern  yerge  of  Germany,  at  Memel,  in  the 
beginning  of  the  century,  j)assed  the  greater  part  of  his 
life  as  Professor  of  Poetry  at  the  University  of  Konigs- 
berg,  and  died  in  1659.  He  was  a  follower  of  the  Sile- 
sian  school,  and  a  writer  of  many  hymns  which  combine 
correctness  of  form  with  sincere  devotional  feeling. 
His  natural  tendency  seems  to  have  been  to  imitate  the 
VolksUeder,  or  common  songs  of  the  people,  and  how 
narrowly  he  missed  an  original  place  in  literature  may 
be  seen  from  the  popularity  of  his  song  ^'Anke  von 
Tharaw!'  which  every  German  knows  and  sings  at  this 
day.      It   is  written  in   the   Low-German   of  Eastern 


186 


GERMAN  LITERATURE. 


Prussia.  The  tradition  says  that  Annie  of  Tharaw  was 
betrothed  to  him  and  then  left  him  for  another,  where- 
upon he  wrote  the  tender  ballad  as  a  piece  of  bitter 
irony ;  but  the  same  story  is  told  of  the  authorship  of 
our  familiar  Scotch  ballad,  "Annie  Lawrie,"  and  is  per- 
haps untrue  in  both  cases.  The  feeling,  in  both  the 
Scotch  and  the  Low-German  ballad,  is  very  similar,  as 
you  will  notice,  and  the  melodies  attached  to  both  are 
as  tender  as  the  words.  I  will  give  you  the  original,  and 
Longfellow's  admirable  translation : 


Anke  von   Tliaraw  oss,    de  my 

gefollt, 
Se  OSS  milin  Lewen,   milin  Goet 

on  mihn  Gcilt. 


Annie  of  Tharaw,  my  true  Jove 

of  old, 
Slie  is  my  life,  and  my  goods, 

and  my  gold. 


Anke  von  Tharaw  hefft  wedder 

eer  Hart 
Op  my  gerochtet  on  Low  'on  on 

Schmart. 


Annie  of  Tharaw,  her  heart  once 

again 
To  me  has  surrendered  in  joy 

and  in  pain. 


Anke  von  Tharaw  mihn  Rikh- 

dom,  mihn  Goet, 
Du  mihne  Seele,  mihn  Fleesch 

on  mihn  Bloet  ! 


Annie   of    Tharaw,    my   riches, 

my  good, 
Thou,  0  my  soul,  my  flesh,  and 

my  blood  ! 


Quom  allet  Wedder  glihk  on  ons 

tho  schlahn, 
Wy  syn  gestinnt,  by  een  anger 

tho  stahn. 


Then  come  the  wild  weather, 
come  sleet  or  come  snow. 

We  will  stand  by  each  other 
however  it  blow. 


Kranckheit,  Berfiilgung,  Bedrof- 

nos  on  Pihn, 
Sal    vnsrer     Love,    Yernottinge 

syn. 


Oppression,  and   sickness,    and 

sorrow,  and  pain 
Shall   be   to   our  true  love    as 

links  to  the  chain. 


LITERATURE  OP  THE  SEVENTEENTH  CENTURY.    187 

Recht  as  een  Palmen-Bolim  aver  As  the   palm-tree    standeth    so 

stick  stocht,  straight  and  tall, 

Je  mehr  en  Hagel  on  Regen  an-  The   more  the   hail  beats,   and 

fticht  ;  the  more  the  rains  fall, — 

So  wardt  de  Low'  on  ons  machtich  So  love  in  our  hearts  shall  grow 
on  groht,  mighty  and  strong, 

Dorch  Kryhtz,  dorch  Lyden,  Through  crosses,  through  sor. 
dorch  allerley  Noht.  rows,      through      manifold 

wrong. 

Wordest  du  glihk  een  mal  von  Shouldst  thou  be  torn  from  me 
my  getrennt,  to  wander  alone, 

Leewdest  dar,  wor  om  dee  In  a  desolate  land  where  the  sun 
Sonne  kuhm  keimt ;  is  scarce  known,— 

Eck  woll  dy  f iilgen  dorch  Woler,  Through  forests  I'll  follow,  and 
dorch  Miir,  where  the  sea  flows, 

Dorch  Yhss,  dorch  Ihsen,  dcirch  Through  ice,  and  through  iron, 
fihndlocket  Hahr.  through  armies  of  foes. 

Anke  von  Tharaw,  niihn  Licht,       Annie  of  Tharaw,  my  light  and 


mihne  Scinn, 


my  sun. 


Mihn  Leven   schlucht    ock    on  The  threads  of  our  two  lives  are 

dihnet  henonn.  woven  in  one. 

Wat  ock  gebcide,  wart  van   dy  Whate'er   I  have  bidden    thee 

gedahn,  thou  hast  obeyed, 

Wat  ock  verbcide,  dat  latstu  my  Whatever  forbidden  thou  hast 

stahn.  not  gainsaid. 

Wat  heft  de  Love  diich  ver  een  How  in  the  turmoil  of  life  can 

Bestand,  love  stand, 

Wor    nich    een   Hart   oss,    een  Where   there  is  not  one  heart, 

Mund,  eene  Hand  ?  and    one  mouth,    and    one 

hand  ? 

Wor  cim  sock  hartaget,  kabbelt  Some  seek  for  dissension,   and 

on  schleyht,  trouble,  and  strife  ; 

On  glihk  den  Hungen  on  Katten  Like  a  dog  and  a  cat  live  such 

begeyht.  man  and  wife. 


188  GERMAN  LITEBATURE. 

Anke  von  Tharaw,  dat  war  wy  Annie  of   Tliaraw,    such   is  not 

nicli  dolin,  our  love  ; 

Du    bust    myu   Dyhfken,    myn  Thou  art  my  lambkin,  my  chick, 

ScLalipken,  mibn  Hobu,  and  my  dove. 

Wat  tick  begehre,  begebrest  du  Wbate'er  my  desire  is,  in  tliine 
obk,  may  be  seen  ; 

Eck  labt  den  Rock  dy,  du  batst  I  am  king  of  the  household,  and 
my  de  Brohk.  thou  art  its  queen. 

Dit  oss  dat,  Anke,  du  soteste  It  is  this,  O  my  Annie,  my 
Ruh,  heart's  sweetest  rest, 

Een  Lihf  on  Seele  wart  uht  ock  That  makes  of  us  twain  but  one 
on  Du.  soul  in  one  breast. 

Dit    mahckt    dat     Lewen  tom      This  turns  to  a  heaven  the  hut 

Hammlischen  Rihk,  where  we  dwell ; 

Dorch  Zanken  wart  et  der  Hel-      While  wrangling  soon  changes 

len  gelihk.  a  home  to  a  hell. 

We  cannot  wonder  that  tlie  peasant-poets  were  silent 
during  this  century.  The  people  had  suffered  too 
sorely  to  sing  much  else  than  those  devotional  poems, 
in  which  they  were  directed  to  find  consolation.  This 
was  the  greatest  misfortune  bequeathed  by  the  Thirty 
Years'  War — that  the  nobles,  as  a  class,  soon  repaired 
their  losses  and  enjoyed  their  former  state,  while  the 
people  were  so  bruised  and  crippled,  so  weak  and  des- 
titute of  the  means  of  recovering  their  strength,  that 
their  material  condition  was  probably  worse,  and  their 
opportunities  for  development  less,  than  under  the  Ho- 
henstaufen  Emperors.  The  war  lasted  so  long  that  it 
finally  educated  its  own  soldiery,  from  whose  brutal 
character  no  decent  song  of  battle  could  be  expected. 
A  later  generation,  at  the  end  of  the  century,  gave  us 


LTTEUATURE  OF  THE  SEVENTEENTH  CENTURY.    189 

one  song,  or  rather  ballad  of  war,  wMcli  lias  outlived 
all  tlie  others  of  the  time  —  the  well-known  ^'Frinz 
Eufjenius,  der  edle  Bitter,"  which  celebrates  the  bravery 
of  Prince  Eugene  of  Savoy  at  the  battle  of  Belgrade, 
The  fifteenth  and  the  sixteenth  centuries  were  much  more 
prolific  in  folk-songs,  and  they  were  of  a  better  literary 
character  than  those  of  the  seventeenth  century. 

Keturning  to  the  Silesian  school,  we  find  that  the  first 
important  successor  of  Opitz  was  Andreas  Gryphius, 
also  a  Silesian,  born  in  1616.  He  was  well  educated,  a 
remarkable  philologist  for  his  time,  familiar  with  the 
classical  and  Oriental  languages  and  all  the  living 
tongues  of  Europe ;  he  traveled  for  two  years,  visiting 
Italy  and  England,  became  Syndic  of  Glogau,  his  native 
place,  and  died  in  1664  Gryphius  must  be  placed  be- 
low Opitz  as  a  lyric  poet,  although  in  form  and  finish 
he  is  an  equal ;  but  he  did  not  create  a  school,  like 
the  latter.  He  only  obeyed  the  laws  which  had  been 
already  adopted.  His  poetry  has  a  melancholy,  almost 
a  dreary  character :  his  favorite  themes  were  church- 
yards, death,  and  rest  after  troubles.  But  he  deserves 
to  be  specially  mentioned  as  a  dramatic  author.  He 
was  the  first  to  elevate  the  dramatic  literature  of  Ger- 
many, which,  up  to  this  time,  seems  to  have  been  chiefly 
modeled  on  the  puppet  plays  and  miracle  plays.  As  a 
good  English  scholar,  Gryphius  had  the  highest  models, 
and  one  of  his  comedies,  '^ Peter  Squenze,"  gives  tolera- 
bly clear  evidence  that  he  was  acquainted  with  Shake- 


190  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

speare.  It  is  true  that  Peter  Quince  of  tlie  "  Midsum- 
mer Night's  Dream  "  was  ah-eady  kuown  in  Germany,  as 
a  character,  through  the  English  traveling  actors  ;  but 
Grjphius  imitates  the  device  of  a  play  within  a  play, 
from  the  "Pyramus  and  Thisbe  "  of  Shakespeare.  His 
tragedies  of  "Leo  Armenius,''  "Pajnnian'  and  ''Karl 
Stuart "  are  declamatory  and  grandiloquent,  somewhat 
like  those  of  Dry  den's  famous  rival,  Elkanah  Settle ; 
but  they  at  least  inaugurated  in  Germany  a  much 
better  character  of  dramatic  art.  In  this  resjDect,  we 
must  give  Gryphius  a  similar  credit  to  that  which  we 
have  given  to  Opitz :  he  advanced  the  literary  standard 
of  his  day.  After  the  models  which  they  furnished, — ■ 
the  one  in  purity  of  language  and  the  external  structure 
of  verse,  the  other  in  the  dramatic  treatment  of  a  proper 
subject, — no  author  dared  to  return  to  the  imperfect 
standard  of  previous  times.  There  was  thus  a  general 
advance  of  skill  and  taste,  in  spite  of  the  adherence  to 
a  false  system.  We  see  something  similar  in  the  phe- 
nomena of  our  American  literature  at  the  present  day. 
But  the  "sensational"  element,  as  it  is  called,  which 
has  crept  into  English  and  American  literature,  is  even 
worse  in  its  effect  on  the  mental  habits  of  the  people 
than  was  the  affected  classicism  of  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury ;  for  it  goes  beyond  "  the  modesty  of  nature,"  in- 
stead of  falling  below  it. 

With  Andreas  Gryphius  the  first  Silesian  school  came 
to  an  end.     Yilmar,  in  his  history  of  the  period,  gives 


LITERATURE  OF  THE  SEVENTEENTH  CENTURY.    191 

some  curious  examples  of  its  affectations,  and  some  of 
them  remind  us  of  similar  features  in  tlie  English  litera- 
ture of  the  last  century.  Where  the  earliest  German 
poets  used  simple  substantives,  as  night,  the  forest,  the 
sea,  the  mediaeval  authors  added  the  most  obvious  ad- 
jectives, as  dark  night,  the  green  wood,  the  blue  sea.  The 
Silesians  made  a  deliberate  chase  after  elegant  and 
original  words,  and  the  discovery  of  a  new  adjective  was 
a  cause  of  rejoicing  to  the  brotherhoods  of  the  Palm  and 
the  Pine.  Thus,  hlach  evening  was  first  adopted ;  but 
presently  some  fortunate  poet  hit  upon  broion,  and  all 
evenings  were  brown,  to  the  end  of  the  century.  You 
will  find  the  same  word,  ax^plied  to  evening  and  shade, 
by  Gray  and  Collins  ;  and  morning,  you  will  notice,  was 
nearly  always  purple  in  the  last  century.  In  the  sen- 
sational school,  now-a-days,  all  things  are  opal,  topaz, 
emerald  or  ruby  ;  and  it  is  doubtful  whether  we  can  get 
any  farther.  Opitz  established  the  fashion:  he  made 
all  tears  salt,  all  water  glassy,  all  north-stars  cold,  for  his 
followers.  The  earth,  according  to  his  mood,  was  either 
a  great  round,  a  beautiful  round  or  a  desdkde  round. 
Addison  calls  it  a  "  terrestrial  ball,"  and  Tennyson 
styles  the  moon  "  an  argent  round." 

Now,  you  can  readily  imagine  that  after  Opitz  and 
Gryphius  had  been  accepted  as  models,  their  later  fol- 
lowers, being  utterly  deficient  in  original  genius,  knew 
nothing  else  to  do  but  to  copy  and  exaggerate  their  most 
obvious  characteristics.     This  is,  in  fact,  the  distinction 


192  GERMAN  LITERATURE, 

of  what  is  called  tlie  second  Silesian  school.  It  rose 
into  existence,  toward  the  end  of  the  century,  under  the 
leadershi^D  of  two  noblemen,  Hoffmanswaldau  and  Lo- 
henstein.  Let  me  give  you  a  single  specimen  from  the 
first  of  these,  and  I  think  you  will  require  no  further 
illustration  of  the  character  of  the  school :  "  Your  coun- 
tenance gives  strength  and  light  to  the  stars.  The  year 
has  four  seasons,  you  but  one,  for  the  spring  always 
blossoms  on  your  lips.  Winter  does  not  approach  you, 
and  the  sun  is  hardly  permitted  to  shine  beside  the 
beam  of  your  eyes.  You  carry  virtue  in  a  splendid 
purple  dish,  ornamented,  as  it  seems,  with  white  ivory : 
your  mouth  is  the  retreat  of  a  thousand  nightingales, 
and  the  tongues  of  angels  beg  to  be  admitted  therein  as 
servants."  Add  to  such  stuff  as  this  the  mechanical 
jingle  of  Siegmund  von  Birken — whom  Southey  seems 
to  have  imitated  in  his  "  Falls  of  Lodore," — the  tiresome 
melodies  of  Christian  Gryphius,  the  literary  son  of  his 
father  Andreas,  and  the  blood-and-thunder  tragedies  of 
Lohenstein,  and  we  cannot  help  feeling  that  the  only 
use  of  this  second  Silesian  school  was  to  create  such  a 
disgust  with  the  system,  that  a  reaction  must  inevitably 
follow.  So,  in  England,  the  bombast  and  nonsense  of 
the  aristocratic  writers,  of  exactly  the  same  period,  was 
followed  by  the  revival  of  Queen  Anne's  time. 

This  is  the  translation  of  a  passage  from  Siegmund 
von  Birken,  which  may  have  suggested  the  tinkling 
music  in  the  "  Falls  of  Lodore  "  : 


LITERATURE  OF  THE  SEVENTEENTH  CENTURY.    193 

WELCOME  TO   SPRING-. 

They're  glancing,  entrancing  and  dancing, 

Tlie  blossoming  meadows ; 
While  gleameth,  and  beameth,  and  streameth 

The  dew  in  the  shadows. 
They're  spreading,  and  wedding,  and  shedding. 

The  freshly-leaved  branches ; 
And  rustle,  and  hustle  with  bustle 

The  wind  as  it  launches. 
They  spring  out,  and  sing  out,  and  ring  out. 

The  pipes  in  their  blowing  ; 
In  daytime  the  playtime  of  May-time 

The  shepherds  are  showing. 

But  tliere  was  one  man,  also  a  Silesian,  yet  standing 
as  much  alone  as  Milton,  and  Dryden  after  him,  whose 
works  are  as  the  shadow  of  a  rock  in  a  weary  land. 
This  is  Friedrich  von  Logau,  another  of  the  neglected 
minds  who  first  received  recognition  and  critical  justice 
from  Lessing.  He  was  born  in  1604,  educated  at  Brieg, 
in  Silesia,  where  he  was  a  page  in  the  house  of  the 
reigning  Duke,  and  afterward,  having  studied  jurispru- 
dence, an  official  in  the  chancery  of  the  Duchy.  He 
was  poor,  dependent  on  a  small  salary,  and  his  life  was 
one  of  toil  and  trouble.  A  complete  collection  of  his 
aphorisms,  epigrams  and  lyric  poems  was  published 
under  the  name  of  Salomon  von  Golaw,  in  1654,  and  in 
the  following  year  he  died.  Five  or  six  years  before 
his  death,  he  was  elected  a  member  of  the  Order  of  the 
Palm ;  but  he  seems  to  have  had  very  little  intercourse 
with  the  other  Silesian  members,  and  his  works  show 
only  slight  traces  of  the  influence  of  the  school. 
9 


194  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

Friedricli  von  Logan  is  a  noble  character,  in  whatever 
aspect  we  consider  him.  He  was  an  earnest  thinker  in 
a  thoughtless  time ;  he  was  a  strong,  believing,  aspiring 
soul,  a  man  of  steadfast  integrity  and  virtue,  in  an  age 
of  lawlessness  and  vice.  His  possessions  were  wasted 
by  the  terrible  war;  Wallenstein's  trooj^s  overran  the 
Duchy,  and  left  a  trail  of  barbarism  behind  them ;  but 
nothing  could  shake  his  inherent  goodness  and  bravery 
for  the  sake  of  good.  The  thousand  brief  aphorisms 
which  he  has  left  were  written  as  they  came  to  him 
during  a  period  of  twenty-five  years  of  labor :  they  are 
simjDly  the  necessary  recreation  of  his  mind.  The  gov- 
erning j)rinciple  of  his  life  was  to  do  his  nearest  duty, 
and  he  only  gave  to  letters  the  time  which  he  could  spare 
from  his  office  and  the  care  of  his  family.  The  follow- 
ing couplet  of  Logau,  which  is  almost  proverbial  to-day, 
will  be  readily  recognized  in  Longfellow's  translation: 

Gottes  Miihlen  mahlen  langsam,       Though  the  mills  of  God  grind 
mahlen  aber  treflflich  klein  ;  slowly,  yet  they  grind  ex- 

ceeding small ; 
Ob  aus  Langmut  er  sich  saumet,       Though  with  patience  he  stands 
bringt  mit  Scharf  er  alles  ein.  waiting,    with    exactness 

grinds  he  all. 

This  image  of  a  mill  seems  to  have  been  a  favorite 
with  him.  I  find  the  following  satirical  allusion  to 
some  one  of  his  acquaintance: 

Fungus'  mouth  is  like  a  mill,  and  as  fast  as  ever  ran  ; 

For  each  handful  wit  it  grinds,  there's  a  bushel  wordy  bran. 


LITER A2  URE  OF  THE  SEVENTEENTH  CENTURY.    195 
Here  is  another: 

A  mill -stone  and  the  human  heart  are  whirled  forever  round : 
Where  either  nothing  has  to  grind,  it  must  itself  be  ground. 

This  is  the  general  character  of  Logan's  aphorisms — 
brief,  pithy,  witty,  but  with  an  underlying  tone,  either 
of  wisdom,  or  satire,  or  faith,  or  tenderness.  Many  of 
his  couplets  or  verses  have  strayed  away  from  him,  and 
are  used  at  this  day  by  thousands  who  never  guess 
whence  they  came.  I  remember  that  when  I  first  tra- 
veled on  foot  through  Germany,  I  often  saw  these  lines 
in  the  Sfammbucher,  or  albums,  of  the  traveling  journey- 
men whom  I  met  on  the  highways : 

Hoffnung  ist  ein  fester  Stab, 
Und  Geduld  ein  Eeisekleid, 
J^  man  mit  durch  ^^'elt  und  Grab 
Wandelt  in  die  Ewigkeit. 

These  lines  I  afterward  found  in  Logan's  aphorisms. 
Like  all  genuine,  thinking  brains,  his  pages  are  full  of 
suggestions  of  the  expressions  of  later  and  more  fortu- 
nate authors.  Goethe  says  :  "  Es  irrt  der  Mensch,  so 
lang  er  strebt,"  but  Logau  had  said  before  him — "  Dass 
ich  irre,  bleibt  gewiss,  alldieweil  ein  Mensch  ich  bin." 
Logau  wrote : 

"  Friihling  ist  des  Jahres  Rose  ;  Rosen  sind  des  Friihlings  Zier ; 
Und  der  Rosen  Rosenf iirstin  seyd  und  heisset  billig  Ihr' ; " 

and  two  hundred  years  after  him  Tennyson  wrote : 

"Queen  rose  of  the  rosebud  garden  of  girls. 
Queen  lily  and  rose  in  one. " 


196  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

The  modern  German  poet  Riickert  says :  "  Repetition 
is  compensation  for  the  transitory  bliss" — and  we  find 
in  Logau  "  The  best  nourishment  of  jDleasure  is  repeated 
pleasure."  I  might  extend  this  list  of  correspondences, 
and  thus  prove,  backward,  the  genuine  quality  of  Lo- 
gan's genius.  There  could  be  no  greater  contrast  than 
between  the  members  of  the  second  Silesian  school, 
with  their  thin  and  weak  pretense  of  ideas,  their  in- 
flated diction  and  deluge  of  interminable  works,  and  this 
hard-working,  lonely,  modest  man,  crowding  his  honest 
thought  and  sound  reflection  into  a  few  brief  lines,  and 
giving  them  to  the  world  under  an  assumed  name.  He 
might  have  furnished  not  only  all  of  them,  but  also  the 
devotional  poets,  Gerhard  and  Franck,  with  a  better 
material  than  they  found.  There  are  several  sermons 
and  hymns  compressed  into  these  four  lines  of  Logau : 

Mensclilicli  ist  es,  Siinde  treiben  ; 
Teufliscli  ist 's,  in  Siinden  bleiben  ; 
Cliristlich  ist  es,  Siinde  liassen  ; 
Gottlieb  ist  es,  Siind'  erlassen. 

During  the  whole  of  the  seventeenth  century,  there  is 
no  prose  which  at  all  approaches  that  of  Luther  in 
simplicity  and  strength.  We  find,  it  is  true,  that  the 
provincialism  of  the  writers, — the  marks  of  their  par- 
ticular dialects, — ^begin  to  disappear,  and  the  pure  High- 
German,  under  the  influence  of  the  literary  societies, 
is  gradually  gaining  ground ;  but  the  popular  sources 
from  which  Luther  drew  so  much  are  neglected.     Both 


LITERATURE  OF  THE  SEVENTEENTH  CENTURY.    197 

Silesian  schools,  but  especially  the  second,  operated 
unfavorably  upon  the  prose  style  of  the  day.  Opitz  and 
Gryphius  taught  a  hard,  cold,  formal  manner,  whereby 
the  language  loses  much  of  its  native  life  and  warmth, 
and  the  second  school  was  such  a  mixture  of  affectation 
and  bombast,  that  many  of  its  productions  now  seem  to 
us  to  be  intentional  parodies  of  their  authors.  Lohen- 
stein's  romance  of  "Arminius  and  Thusnelda,"  covering 
nearly  3,000  quarto  pages,  printed  in  double  columns,  is 
simply  monstrous  :  we  marvel  that  an  individual  should 
commit,  or  a  public  endure,  such  an  overwhelming  of- 
fense. But  we  remember  how  our  own  ancestors  were 
fascinated  vvdtli  Clarissa  Harlow,  and  how  the  German 
public  of  to-day  reads  the  nine  volumes  and  4,000  pages 
of  Gutzkow's  "  Zauberer  von  Bom.'' 

The  best  prose  work  of  the  time  is  certainly  Grim- 
melhausen's  " Simj^licissimiis,''  which  bears  nearly  the 
same  relation  to  the  pompous  romances  of  the  Silesian 
authors  as  Fielding  to  Richardson.  It  is  a  story  of 
common  life,  told  in  bare,  clear,  racy  language,  and  with 
the  same  fresh  realism  which  we  find  in  "  Tom  Jones  " 
and  "  Joseph  Andrews."  Next  in  value  I  should  rank 
the  homilies  and  didactic  writings  of  the  monk  Abraham 
a  Santa  Clara,  which  are  also  simple  in  tone,  and  really 
effective  because  they  betray  no  straining  after  effect. 
Zinkgref 's  historical  sketches,  the  travels  of  Olearius, 
and  the  orations  of  Baron  Canitz,  have,  at  least,  the 
merit  of  being  tolerable  where  nearly  all  is  positively 


198  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

bad.  We  can  only  say  tliat  the  average  performance 
of  the  prose  writers  is  higher  at  the  close  than  it  was  at 
the  beginning  of  the  century.  The  language  by  this 
time  was  sufficiently  deyelopecl,  and  the  excellences  and 
faults  of  its  literature  so  abundantly  manifested,  that  it 
was  ready  for  the  use  of  better  intellects.  These  came, 
soon  afterward,  in  Haller  and  Hagedorn  and  Gellert — 
then  followed  the  first  master-mind  of  the  great  modern 
period,  Lessing. 

In  studying  this  long  and  interrupted  intellectual  his- 
tory of  the  German  race,  we  must  beware  of  confining 
our  interest  to  individual  authors,  or  even  to  particular 
eras.  This  seventeenth  century,  which  we  have  been 
considering,  becomes  a  tedious  field  of  research  if  we 
separate  it  from  the  centuries  before  and  after  it.  Each 
author  must  be  judged,  first,  in  relation  to  his  own 
time,  and  the  temporary  influences  which  gave  char- 
acter to  his  works  ;  then,  by  the  absolute  standard  of 
achievement,  by  his  contribution  to  the  permanent  ele- 
ments of  growth  in  his  country  and  in  the  world. 
Unless  we  acquire  this  latter  and  broader  habit  of  vision, 
we  may  fail  to  see  the  true  meaning  of  many  lives,  the 
true  importance  of  many  historical  periods;  and  we  shall 
surely  derive  from  the  general  survey  one  lesson  which 
might  escape  us  if  we  looked  only  to  particulars — one 
lesson  of  the  greatest  value  to  every  young  American 
whose  tastes  or  talents  lead  him  toward  literature  : — 
that  nothing  is  more  delusive  than  the  fashion  of  the 


LITERATURE  OF  THE  SEVENTEENTH  CENTURY.    199 

day :  tliat  the  immediate  popularity  of  a  work  is  no  test 
whatever  of  its  excellence  :  that  the  writer  who  consults 
the  general  moods  or  likings  of  the  public  is  never 
likely  to  achieve  genuine  and  permanent  success  : — while 
he  who  considers  only  the  truth  of  his  thought,  the 
simplicity  and  clearness  of  its  expression,  and  its  proba- 
ble value  to  all  humanity,  may  seem  to  be  disparaged 
or  neglected  for  a  time,  but  shall  surely  be  acknowl- 
edged by  that  everlasting,  lofty  intelligence  of  men 
which  is  above  all  fleeting  fashions  of  literature. 


YIL 

LESSINQ. 

We  now  reach  a  period  where  the  language  is  wholly 
modern.  We  find  no  difference,  except  in  style  and 
habit  of  thought,  between  the  authors  of  Queen  Anne's 
time  and  those  of  our  own  day :  so  our  German  brother 
finds  no  greater  difference  between  the  present  and  the 
authors  who  were  born  one  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago. 
From  this  period,  we  are  able  to  contrast  and  compare 
the  two  languages,  as  they  are  now  spoken,  and  thus  to 
appreciate  intelligently  the  two  literatures. 

Instead  of  giving  a  general  historical  survey  of  modern 
German  Literature,  I  shall  take  up,  in  the  order  of  their 
lives,  the  six  most  prominent  authors,- and,  by  describing 
them  and  their  works  separately,  give  you,  through 
them,  a  picture  of  the  times  in  which  they  lived.  They 
are — Lessing,  Klopstock,  Wieland,  Herder,  Schiller  and 
Goethe.  The  great  era  of  German  Literature,  which 
they  created,  corresponds  to  the  Augustan  in  Eome  and 
the  Elizabethan  in  England — an  era  which  commenced 
about  the  middle  of  the  last  century,  and  terminated,  with 
the  death  of  Goethe,  in  the  year  1832.  Within  the  pre- 
scribed limits,  it  will  not  be  possible  to  give  a  complete 

200 


LE88ING.  201 

history  of  the  period  ;  because,  more  than  the  literature 
of  any  other  language,  that  of  Germany,  on  account  of 
the  larger  culture  of  its  creative  minds,  is  connected 
with  the  contemporary  literature  of  the  rest  of  Europe. 
We  cannot  dissociate  it,  as  we  can  that  of  England  and 
of  France,  from  the  influence  of  foreign  thought  and  the 
literary  fashions  prevalent  in  other  countries.  But  the 
life  of  every  author,  who  has  shared  in  shaping  the 
development  of  his  generation,  always  reflects,  in  an 
individual  form,  the  influences  which  affect  the  class  to 
which  he  speaks,  since  he  must  admit  them  and  take 
them  into  account,  although  he  himself  may  remain 
comparatively  independent.  I  hope,  therefore,  that  an 
account  of  the  men  who  have  created  the  modern  litera- 
ture of  Germany  will,  at  the  same  time,  enable  us  to 
estimate  the  character  of  that  literature,  and  its  im- 
portance as  an  element  of  human  development. 

One  who  is  familiar  with  the  German  language  will 
have  little  difficulty  in  selecting  the  characteristics  which 
distinguish  the  literature  of  Germany  from  that  of  other 
nations.  You  are  aware  that  the  German  language  is 
subtle,  rich  and  involved  in  its  structure ;  while  the 
English,  with  an  even  greater  flexibility,  generally  re- 
mains realistic,  simple  and  direct.  These  prominent 
characteristics  repeat  themselves  in  the  two  literatures, 
for  speech  and  thought  have  a  reciprocal  influence.  A 
great  genius  partly  forces  the  language  he  uses  to  adapt 
itself  to  his  own  intellectual  quality,  and  he  is  partly 
9* 


202  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

forced  by  tlie  language  to  submit  his  intellect  to  its  laws. 
Apart  from  this  circumstance,  however,  the  natural 
tendency  of  a  German  author  is  to  express  himself  in 
accordance  with  an  intellectual  system,  which  he  has 
discovered  or  imagined,  and  adojDted  as  his  ow^n ;  while 
the  English  author,  if  he  be  honest,  is  more  concerned 
for  the  thing  he  expresses,  and  its  effect,  than  for  its  fit- 
ness as  a  part  of  any  such  system.  In  the  private  cor- 
respondence of  the  German  authors,  w^e  find  their  works 
reciprocally  analyzed,  according  to  the  literary  prin- 
ciples of  each ;  their  conceptions  are  tested  by  abstract 
laws;  and  felicities  of  expression,  which  an  English  critic 
usually  notices  first,  are  with  them  a  secondary  interest. 

Now,  where  such  theories,  or  systems,  harmonize  with 
the  eternal  canons  of  Literary  Art — and  of  all  Art,  the 
»key  to  which  may  be  given  in  three  words,  Elevation, 
Proportion,  E-epose — they  help,  not  hinder,  the  author's 
best  development.  Goethe,  Lessing  and  Schiller  are 
illustrious  examples  of  this.  But  where  the  system 
reflects  some  special  taste,  some  strong  23ersonal  ten- 
dency, as  in  the  cases  of  Klopstock,  Wieland  and  Rich- 
ter,  it  carries  its  own  limitations  along  wdth  it.  The 
author  who  allows  himself  to  be  thus  circumscribed, 
may  become  ruler  over  some  fair  province  of  literature, 
but  he  cannot  belong  to  the  reigning  line  of  the  king- 
dom. 

This  tendency,  perhaps,  explains  the  fact  that  German 
literature  seems  to  reflect  a  greater  range  of  intellectual 


LESSING.  203 

and  spiritual  experience  than  ours.  It  is  more  frank, 
intimate  and  confidential — sometimes  to  a  degree  wliicli 
is  almost  repellant  to  Anglo-Saxon  reserve  ;  for  the 
author  is  less  careful  to  conceal  the  operations  of  his 
mind ; — it  touches  the  nature  of  man  on  many  sides,  and 
endeavors  to  illuminate  all  the  aspects  of  life.  The 
theoretic  tendencies  of  its  authors  do  little  harm,  for 
they  counteract  each  other — nay,  they  often  do  good  by 
substituting  a  fashion  of  thought  for  the  narrower  form 
of  a  fashion  in  expression. 

During  the  whole  of  the  seventeenth  century  and  the 
beginning  of  the  eighteenth,  as  I  have  already  said,  the 
literary  history  of  Germany  may  almost  be  compared 
to  a  desert.  The  annals  of  scarcely  any  other  modern 
nation  show  such  a  long  period  of  barrenness.  But 
early  in  the  last  century,  Gleim  and  Gellert  were  born 
— two  authors  who  seem  to  have  been  destined  to  stand 
between  the  waste  that  went  before  and  the  harvest 
which  followed.  They  are  thus  important  or  insignifi- 
cant, according  to  the  side  from  which  we  look  at  them. 
But,  even  before  they  had  reached  their  productive 
activity,  greater  minds  were  in  the  world.  In  the  year 
1724,  Klopstock  was  born;  in  1729,  Lessing;  in  1733, 
Wieland;  in  1744,  Herder;  in  1749,  Goethe;  in  1759, 
Schiller,  and  in  1762,  Eichter.  Every  six  years  a  new 
name,  destined  to  be  an  independent,  victorious,  per- 
manent power. 

Great  men  never  come  upon  an  age  entirely  unpre- 


204  GEHMAI^  LITERATURE. 

pared  to  receive  them.  Tlie  secret  influences  wMcli 
culminated  in  a  fierce  social  and  political  crisis,  toward 
the  end  of  the  century,  were  already  at  work,  and  there 
must  have  been  a  large  class  of  receptive  minds  capable 
of  sustaining  those  which  were  born  to  create.  For 
these  latter,  however,  a  season  of  struggle  was  certain. 
There  is  a  vast  difference  between  the  silent  and  the 
spoken  protest.  The  courts,  the  universities  and  the 
clergy,  at  that  time,  held  a  despc^tic  sway  over  opinion 
and  taste.  The  young  author  made  haste  to  secure  his 
titled  patron,  and  paid  by  flattery  for  the  little  freedom 
of  expression  which  he  was  allowed  to  exercise.  We 
can  best  measure  the  stagnation  of  the  period,  and  its 
general  subservience  to  authority,  by  the  angry  excite- 
ment which  followed  every  attempt  at  literary  indepen- 
dence. The  richest  gifts  were  repelled;  the  ways  to 
larger  liberty  w^ere  closed  as  fast  as  they  w^ere  opened ; 
and  the  present  glory  of  the  German  race  was  for  a  long 
time  resisted  as  if  it  were  a  shame. 

The  man  who  first  broke  a  clear,  broad  path  out  of 
this  wilderness  was  Gotthold  Ephraiin  Lessing.  I 
choose  him  first  because  he  was  the  true  pioneer  of 
German  thought — because  his  life  was  "  a  battle  and  a 
march  " — a  long  and  bitter  fight  for  truth,  tolerance  and 
freedom.  If  his  greatest  merits  seem  to  have  been  over- 
shadowed for  a  time  by  the  achievements  of  others,  they 
come  all  the  more  clearly  to  light  in  that  distance  of 
time  which  gives  us  the  true  perspective  of  men.     We 


LESsma.  205 

see  liim  now  as  lie  was,  an  unshaken  hero  of  literature, 
always  leading  a  forlorn  hope,  always  armed  to  the 
teeth,  always  confident  of  the  final  victory.  I  know  of 
no  finer  instance  of  justified  self-reliance  than  is  fur- 
nished by  his  life. 

He  was  born  in  Camenz,  a  small  Saxon  town,  where 
his  father  was  a  clergyman  of  scanty  means  and  of  a 
severe  and  stubborn  nature.  Being  the  eldest  son,  it 
was  meant  that  he  should  follow  his  father's  calling. 
At  the  age  of  twelve  he  was  sent  to  school  at  Meissen, 
and  three  years  afterward  to  the  University  of  Leipzig. 
But  even  as  a  boy  he  asserted  his  independence,  entirely 
neglecting  theological  studies,  and  devoting  himself  to 
languages,  literature  and  the  drama.  The  dictator  in 
literary  matters  in  Leipzig,  at  that  time,  was  Gottsched, — 
a  man  of  some  ability,  but  pedantic,  conventional  and 
arrogant  to  the  last  degree.  The  boy  Lessing  was  one 
of  the  first  to  dispute  his  authority.  He  became  a  con- 
tributor to  literary  journals,  writing  anacreontic  lyrics 
or  stinging  criticisms,  according  to  his  mood,  and  in  his 
eighteenth  year  completed  a  comedy,  ^^Der  junge  Ge- 
lehrte  "  (The  Young  Savant),  which  was  performed  soon 
afterward.  Even  at  that  age,  he  recognized  clearly  the 
characteristics  of  French  and  of  English  literature,  and 
became  a  partisan  for  the  latter,  in  order  to  resist  the 
French  influence  which  was  then  so  powerful  in  Ger- 
many. In  a  short  time,  he  stood  almost  alone  :  there 
were  few  hands  (or,  at  least,  pens)  that  were  not  raised 


206  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

against  liim.  So  poor  that  he  was  barely  able  to  live, 
he  was  called  immoral  and  profligate ;  his  contempt  of 
the  reigning  pedantry  was  ascribed  to  a  barbaric  want 
of  taste  ;  and  his  refusal  to  devote  himself  to  theology 
was  set  down  as  atheism.  The  slanders  prevalent  in 
Leipzig  reached  his  home,  a?id  were  followed  by  angry 
or  reproachful  letters  from  his  father.  The  patience  and 
the  good  sense  with  which  he  endured  these  troubles 
are  remarkable  in  one  so  young.  In  one  of  his  letters, 
he  quotes  from  Plautus  the  words  of  a  father  who  is 
discontented  with  his  son;  in  another,  referring  to  his  re- 
fusal to  become  a  clergyman,  he  says  boldly  :  "  Eeligion 
is  not  a  thing  which  a  man  should  accept  in  simple  faith 
and  obedience  from  his  parents," — meaning  that  it  must 
be  developed  through  the  aspiration  of  the  individual  souL 
In  his  twenty-first  year,  Lessing  went  to  Berlin, 
where  he  succeeded  in  supporting  himself  by  literary 
labor.  He  made  the  acquaintance  of  Moses  Mendels- 
sohn, Eamler  and  the  poets  Gleim  and  Yon  Kleist,  and 
his  mind  began  to  develop  rapidly  and  vigorously  in  a 
fresher  and  freer  intellectual  atmosphere.  Notwith- 
standing his  scanty  earnings,  he  managed  to  collect  a 
valuable  library,  and  to  contribute  small  sums  from 
time  to  time  for  the  education  of  his  younger  brothers. 
In  the  year  1755  his  play  of  ''Miss  Sara  Sampson  "  was 
completed.  It  was  modeled  on  the  English  drama,  and, 
as  the  German  stage  up  to  that  time  had  been  governed 
entirely  by  French  ideas,  it  was  a  sudden  and  violent 


LESSING.  207 

innovation,  the  success  of  whicli  was  not  assured  until 
ten  years  later,  wlien  Lessing  produced  '^Minna  von 
Barnhelmy  The  English  authors  of  Queen  Anne's 
time — especially  Swift,  Steele,  Addison  and  Pope — had 
an  equal  share  with  the  Greek  aud  Latin  classics  in 
determining  the  character  of  his  labors.  He  was  also  a 
careful  student  of  Shakespeare  and  of  Milton,  and  seems 
to  have  caught  from  them  something  of  the  compact 
strength  of  his  style. 

After  ten  years,  passed  partly  in  Wittenberg,  but 
mostly  in  Berlin,  Lessing  became  the  secretary  of  Gene- 
ral Tauenzien,  and  in  1760  followed  the  latter  to  Bres- 
lau,  where  he  remained  five  years.  During  this  time 
he  wrote  ''Minna  von  Barnhdm  "  and  "Laocoon  "  (or  the 
Limits  of  Poetry  and  Painting),  which  was  published 
in  1766.  The  great  era  of  German  literature  commenced 
with  these  works.  The  "Laocoon  "  in  its  style,  in  its 
equal  subtlety  and  clearness,  in  its  breadth  of  intel- 
lectual vision,  was  a  work  the  like  of  which  had  not  been 
seen  before.  It  w^as  above  popularity,  because  it  ap- 
pealed only  to  the  finest  minds  ;  but  its  lessons  sank 
deeply  into  one  mind — that  of  the  young  Goethe,  then 
a  student  at  Leipzig — and  set  it  in  the  true  path. 

The  remainder  of  Lessino's  history  is  soon  told.  He 
spent  two  more  years  in  Berlin,  living  from  hand  to 
mouth,  and  then  accepted  the  proposition  to  go  to  Ham- 
burg, and  assist  in  establishing  a  new  theatre.  The  ex- 
periment failed,  and  he  thereupon  made  another.     He 


208  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

took  a  partner,  and  commenced  tlie  printing  and  pub- 
lishing business  upon  an  entirely  new  plan  ;  but  as 
neither  he  nor  his  partner  had  any  practical  knowledge 
of  jDrinting,  they  failed  wretchedly  in  a  year  or  two.  In 
1770,  Lessing,  aged  forty-one,  found  himself  penniless, 
deeply  in  debt,  his  library  of  six  thousand  volumes 
scattered  to  the  winds,  his  father  wi'iting  to  him  for 
money,  and  his  sister  reproaching  him  with  being  a 
heartless  and  undutiful  son.  But  during  those  three 
years  in  Hamburg  he  had  written 'his  ^^ Dramaturgie,^^ 
a  work  second  in  importance  only  to  his  '^Laocoon.'* 

The  Duke  of  Brunswick  offered  him  the  post  of  libra- 
rian at  Wolfenbiittel,  with  a  salary  of  six  hundred 
thalers  (about  four  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  ?)  a  year, 
and  thenceforth  his  wandering  life  ceased.  He  visited 
Mannheim  and  Vienna,  and  accompanied  the  hereditary 
Duke  of  Brunswick  on  a  journey  to  Italy;  but  travel 
seems  to  have  left  little  impression  upon  his  mind.  In 
the  two  or  three  letters  from  Italy,  written  to  his  be- 
trothed wife,  there  is  nothing  about  either  the  country 
or  the  antique  sculpture,  concerning  which  he  had  pre- 
viously written  so  much.  He  married  in  1776,  lost  his 
wife  and  child  in  a  little  more  than  a  year,  and  then 
lived  as  before  entirely  for  literature.  The  two  short 
letters  which  he  wrote  to  his  friend  Eschenburg,  after 
the  death  of  his  child  and  wife,  are  wonderful  ex- 
pressions of  the  strength  and  tenderness  of  the  man. 
I  know  not  wliere  to  find,  in  all  the  literature  of  the 


LESSIJS'G.  209 

world,  such  tragic  patlios  expressing  itself  in  tlie  com- 
monest words.  He  does  not  say  what  he  feels,  but  we 
feel  it  all  the  more. 

On  the  3d  of  January,  1778,  he  writes : 

I  seize  the  moment  when  my  wife  lies  utterly  unconscious,  to 
ihank  you  for  your  sympathy.  My  happiness  was  only  too  short. 
And  it  was  so  hard  to  lose  him,  this  son  of  mine  !  For  he  had  so 
much  understanding — so  much  understanding  !  Do  not  think  that  the 
few  hours  of  my  fatherhood  have  made  me  a  very  ape  of  a  father  ! 
I  know  what  I  am  saying.  Was  it  not  understanding  that  he  came  so 
unwillingly  to  the  world  ? — that  he  so  soon  saw  its  unreason  ?  Was  it 
not  understanding  that  he  grasped  the  first  chance  of  leaving  it  again  ? 
To  he  sure,  the  little  fidget-head  takes  his  mother  with  him,  and  from 
me  ! — for  there  is  little  hope  that  I  may  keep  her.  I  thought  I 
might  be  even  as  fortunate  as  other  men  ;  but  it  has  turned  out  ill 
for  me. 

Just  one  week  afterward  he  wrote  to  Eschenburg : 
"  My  wife  is  dead ;  now  I  have  also  had  this  experi- 
ence. I  am  glad  that  no  other  experience  of  the  kind 
remains  for  me  to  endure — and  am  quite  easy."  His 
"Nathcm  der  Weise  " — the  only  one  of  his  works  which 
has  been  translated  and  published  in  this  country — 
appeared  in  1779,  and  in  1781  he  died,  at  the  age  of 
fifty-two. 

The  closing  years  of  his  life  were  embittered  by  a 
violent  theological  controversy,  and  the  enmity  which 
it  excited  against  him  was  no  doul)t  a  cause  of  the  slight 
success  which  his  last  great  work,  "Nathan  the  Wise," 
attained.  He  had  not  even  the  consolation  of  know- 
ino-  that  the    seed   he    had   sown  was   vital,    and   had 


210  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

already  germinated.     It  was  a  sad  ending  of  a  singu- 
larly cheerful  and  courageous  life. 

In  the  biographies  of  authors,  we  do  not  always  find 
that  genius  rests  on  a  strong  basis  of  character.  There 
are  many  instances  where  we  apj^rove  the  mind,  and 
condemn  the  man.  But  Lessing's  chief  intellectual 
quality  was  a  passion  for  truth,  so  earnest  and  un- 
swerving, that  we  cannot  help  expecting  to  find  it  mani- 
fested in  the  events  of  his  life;  and  we  shall  not  be 
disappointed.  Whatever  faults  niay  have  been  his,  he 
was  always  candid,  honest,  honorable  and  unselfish. 
He  lived  at  a  time  when  a  very  little  tact  and  pliancy 
of  nature  might  have  greatly  advanced  his  fortunes — 
when  a  little  prudent  reticence,  now  and  then,  would 
have  saved  him  from  many  an  angry  denunciation. 
But  he  seems  never  to  have  concerned  himself  with 
anything  beyond  his  immediate  needs.  *'  All  that  a 
man  wants,  is  health,"  he  once  w^rote  :  "  why  should  I 
trouble  myself  about  the  future  ?  What  would  be  pri- 
vation to  many  is  a  sufficiency  to  me."  In  one  of  his 
earlier  poems,  he  says:  "Fame  never  sought  me,  and 
would  not,  in  any  case,  have  found  me.  I  have  never 
craved  riches,  for  why,  during  this  short  journey,  where 
so  little  is  needed,  should  one  hoard  it  up  for  thieves 
rather  than  himself  ?  In  a  little  while  I  shall  be  tram- 
pled under  the  feet  of  those  who  come  after.  Why 
need  they  know  upon  whom  they  tread  ?  I  alone  know 
who  I  am."     This  self-reliant  spirit,   without  vanity. 


LESSINO.  211 

only  asserting  itself  when  its  independence  must  be 
maintained,  is  very  rare  among  men.  Lessing  under- 
stood tlie  character  and  extent  of  liis  own  power  so  well, 
even  as  a  young  man,  that  all  his  utterances  have  a 
stamp  of  certainty,  which  is  as  far  as  possible  from 
egotism. 

We  must  bear  in  mind  the  fact  that,  when  he  began 
to  write,  literature  was  not  much  else  than  a  collection 
of  lifeless  forms  ;  that  government  still  clung  to  the 
ideas  of  the  Middle  Ages,  and  that  religion  had,  for  the 
most  part,  degenerated  into  rigid  doctrine.  Lessing's 
position  was  that  of  a  rebel,  at  the  start.  It  was  impos- 
sible for  him  to  breathe  the  same  atmosphere  with  the 
dogmatists  of  his  day,  and  live.  His  first  volume  of 
poems,  chiefly  imitations  of  the  amorous  lyrics  of  the 
ancients,  gave  the  opportunity  for  an  attack  upon  his 
moral  character.  In  replying  to  his  father,  who  seems 
to  have  joined  in  the  denunciation,  he  says :  "  The 
cause  of  their  existence  is  really  nothing  more  than  my 
inclination  to  attempt  all  forms  of  poetry."  He  then 
adds  :  "  Am  I  so  very  wrong  in  selecting  for  my  youth- 
ful labor  something  whereon  very  few  of  my  country- 
men have  tried  their  skill?  And  would  it  not  be 
foolish  in  me  to  discontinue,  until  I  have  produced  a 
master-piece  ?  " 

Lessing's  critical  articles,  which  he  began  to  write 
during  his  first  residence  in  Berlin,  and  especially  his 
"  Letters  on  Literature,"  soon  made  him  respected  and 


212  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

feared,  altliougli  thej  gained  liim  few  friends  beyond  tlie 
circle  of  liis  personal  associates.  Industry,  combined 
with  a  keen  intellectual  insight,  had  made  him  an  admi- 
rable practical  scholar,  and  few  men  ever  better  knew 
how  to  manage  their  resources.  His  style,  as  I  have 
said,  was  somewhat  colored  by  his  study  of  the  English 
language.  It  is  clear,  keen  and  bright,  never  uncertain 
or  obscure.  Like  the  sword  of  Saladin  it  cuts  its  way 
through  the  finest  web  of  s^^eculation.  He  had  neither 
reverence  for  names,  nor  mercy  for  pretensions,  and  no 
mind  of  looser  texture  than  his  own  could  stand  before 
him.  I  know  of  no  critical  pa]3ers  in  any  literature,  at 
once  so  brilliant  and  so  destructive.  They  would  have 
had  a  more  immediate  and  a  wider  effect,  but  for  the 
fact  that  his  antagonists  represented  the  general  senti- 
ment of  the  time,  which  could  not  be  entirely  suppressed 
in  them.  Yet  his  j)i'iiiciples  of  criticism  were  broader 
than  mere  defense  and  counter-attack.  To  Pastor  Klotz, 
who  complains  of  his  "tone"  toward  him,  he  answers*. 
"  If  I  were  commissioned  as  a  Judge  in  Art,  this 
would  be  my  scale  of  tone  :  gentle  and  encouraging  for 
the  beginners  ;  admiring  with  doubt,  or  doubting  with 
admiration,  for  the  masters ;  positive  and  repellant 
for  the  botchers ;  scornful  for  the  swaggerers ;  and  as 
bitter  as  possible  for  the  intriguers.  The  Judge  in 
Art,  who  has  but  one  tone  for  all,  had  better  have 
none." 

Unfortunately,  he  had  few  opportunities  of  expressing 


LESSING.  213 

either  admiration  or  encouragement.  He  never  failed 
to  recognize  the  merits  of  Moses  Mendelssohn,  Klop- 
stock,  Wieland  and  Herder  ;  but  they  were  authors  who 
stood  in  little  need  of  his  aid.  They  did  not  set  them- 
selves in  immediate  antagonism  to  the  fashion  of  the 
age.  Their  grow^th  out  of  it,  and  into  an  independent 
literary  activity,  was  more  gradual ;  consequently,  each 
of  them  acquired,  almost  at  the  start,  a  circle  of  ad- 
mirers and  followers.  But  Lessing  marched  straight 
forward,  looking  neither  to  the  right  nor  to  the  left,  in- 
different what  prejudices  he  shocked,  or  upon  whom  he 
set  his  feet.  Having,  as  he  conceived,  the  great  minds 
of  Greece,  Rome  and  England  as  his  allies  in  the  Past, 
he  was  content  to  stand  alone  in  the  Present.  His 
criticism  was  positive  as  well  as  negative  :  he  not  only 
pointed  out  the  prevalent  deficiencies  in  taste  and  know- 
ledge, but  he  laid  down  the  law  which  he  felt  to  have 
been  violated,  and  substituted  the  true  for  the  false 
interpretation. 

I  do  not  think  that  Lessing' s  biographers  have  fully 
recognized  the  extent  of  his  indebtedness  to  English 
authors.  It  has  been  remarked  that  his  epigramma- 
tic poems  read  like  stiff  translations  from  the  classics  : 
to  me  they  suggest  the  similar  performances  of  Swift 
and  Herrick.  The  three  plays  by  which  he  revolution- 
ized the  German  stage — ^^ Miss  Sara  Sampson,''  "  Jfinna 
von  Barnhdm,''  and  "Emilia  Galoffi,'" — were  constructed 
upon  English  models.  With  them  the  drama  of  ordinary 


214  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

life  was  introduced  into  Germany.  They  liave  kept 
their  place  to  this  day,  and  are,  even  now,  more  fre- 
quently j^erformed  than  the  plays  of  Goethe.  Although 
they  possess  little  poetic  merit,  they  are  so  admirably 
constructed,  with  so  much  regard  to  the  movement  of 
the  plot  and  its  cumulative  development,  that  they  have 
scarcely  been  surpassed  by  any  later  dramatic  author. 
Even  Goethe  declares  that  it  is  impossible  to  estimate 
their  influence  on  dramatic  literature. 

The  "Laocoon,''  although  a  piece  of  positive  criticism, 
seems  to  have  been  negatively  insj)ired  by  an  English 
book  which  has  long  been  forgotten.  Joseph  Spense, 
whose  "  Anecdotes  "  of  Pope  and  others  still  survives, 
published  in  1747  a  work  entitled,  "  Poly  metis," — a 
comparison  of  the  poetry  and  the  art  of  the  ancients,  in 
which  he  took  the  ground  that  they  illustrate  each  other 
—in  other  words,  that  they  represent  the  same  events. 
Lessing,  whose  interest  in  classic  art  had  been  greatly 
stimulated  by  the  labors  of  Winckelmann,  was  led  to 
examine  the  subject — to  contrast  ancient  art  with  an- 
cient literature,  and  ascertain  whether  indeed  they  were 
only  different  modes  of  presenting  the  same  subject,  as 
Spense  asserted,  or  whether  each  had  its  own  separate 
and  peculiar  sphere  of  existence.  The  description  of 
the  fate  of  Laocoon  and  his  sons,  in  Yirgil,  and  the 
famous  group  of  sculpture,  mentioned  by  Pliny  (now 
in  the  museum  of  the  Yatican,  at  Eome),  furnished  him 
with  a  text,  and  gave  the  title  to  his  work  ;  but  from 


LE8SIN0.  215 

tins  startiiig-23oint  he  rises  to  the  investigation  of  the 
nature  of  Poetry  and  Art,  as  methods  of  expression,  and 
the  laws  which  govern  them.  Where  Gottsched  and  his 
school  furnished  patterns  of  versification,  by  which  men 
should  be  able  to  write  mechanical  poetry,  Lessing  re- 
vealed the  intellectual  law,  without  which  all  verse  is 
but  a  lifeless  jingle,  dreary  to  the  ears  of  men,  and  pro- 
hibited by  the  gods. 

The  opening  sentences  of  the  "Laocoon "  will  give 
you  some  idea  of  the  clearness  and  precision  of  the 
author's  mind.     He  begins  thus  : 

The  first  person  who  compared  Poetry  and  Painting  with  each 
other,  was  a  man  of  sensitive  perception,  who  felt  that  both  arts  af- 
fected him  in  a  similar  manner.  Both,  he  perceived,  represent  absent 
objects  as  present,  substitute  the  appearance  for  the  reality  ;  both  are 
illusive,  yet  their  illusions  give  pleasure. 

A  second  man  endeavored  to  penetrate  to  the  source  and  secret  of 
this  pleasure,  and  discovered  that  in  both  cases  it  flows  from  the 
same  fountain.  Beauty,  the  conception  of  which  we  first  derive  from 
material  objects,  has  its  universal  laws,  which  apply  to  many  things  — 
to  action  and  thought,  as  well  as  to  form. 

A  third  man,  reflecting  upon  the  value  and  the  application  of 
these  eternal  laws,  perceived  that  certain  of  them  are  predominant  in 
painting,  certain  others  in  poetry  ;  and  that,  therefore,  through  the 
latter.  Poetry  may  come  to  the  illustration  of  Painting  ;  through  the 
former  Painting  may  illustrate  Poetrj',  by  means  of  elucidation  and 
example. 

The  first  of  these  men  was  the  lover ;  the  second,  the  philoso- 
pher ;  the  third,  the  critic. 

Lessing  then  proceeds  to  show  that  a  mere  copy  of 
a  natural  object,  no  matter  how  admirably  made,  does 
not  constitute  painting,  and  tliat  mere  description  does 


216  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

not  constitute  poetry.  In  both  cases  the  higher  ele- 
ment of  beauty  is  necessary,  and  this  element  can  only 
exist  under  certain  conditions.  For  instance,  Poetry 
may  express  continuous  action,  but  Art  can  only  express 
suspended  action.  Poetry  may  represent  the  successive 
phases  of  passion.  Art  only  a  single  phase  at  a  time. 
The  agents  of  form  and  color  assist  the  representation, 
in  one  case  ;  the  agency  of  sound  in  the  other. 

I  can  best  give  Lessing's  definition  of  the  U\o  arts — 
which  is  at  the  same  time  a  distinction  between  them — 
in  his  own  words.     He  says  : 

Objects,  whicli  either  in  themselves  or  their  parts,  exist  in  com- 
bination, are  called  bodies.  Therefore  bodies,  with  their  visible  char- 
acteristics, are  the  proper  subjects  of  painting. 

Objects,  which  succeed  each  other,  or  the  parts  of  which  succeed 
each  other,  are  called  actions.  Therefore  actions  are  the  legitimate 
subject  of  poetry. 

All  bodies,  however,  do  not  exist  simplv  in  space,  but  also  in 
time.  They  have  a  continuance,  and  each  moment  of  their  duration 
they  may  appear  differently  and  in  different  combinations.  Each  of 
these  momentary  appearances  and  combinations,  is  the  effect  of  a  pre- 
ceding and  may  be  the  cause  of  a  succeeding  one,  and  thus  the  central 
point  of  an  action.  Painting  may  therefore  imitate  actions,  but  only 
by  suggesting  them  through  bodies. 

On  the  other  hand,  actions  cannot  exist  of  themselves,  but  are 
obliged  to  depend  upon  certain  existences.  In  so  far  as  these  exist- 
ences are  bodies,  or  must  be  so  considered,  poetry  may  represent 
bodies,  buf  only  by  suggesting  them  through  actions. 

I  must  admit  that  this  careful  and  delicate  dissection 
of  the  principles  of  Art  and  Literature,  has  a  greater 
charm  for  the  German  than  for  the  English  mind.  But 
without  considering  Lessing's  critical  genius,  we  can- 


LES8ING.  217 

not  properly  appreciate  his  power  and  value.  He  was 
forced  into  this  field  of  activity,  and  his  capacities  were 
sharpened  by  constant  exercise,  yet  it  was  his  true 
work  after  all.  The  critical  and  the  creative  faculties 
never  entirely  harmonize  in  the  same  brain.  The  critic 
detects,  by  observation  and  analysis,  what  the  creative 
genius  possesses  by  a  special,  splendid  instinct.  It  is 
therefore  possible  for  an  author,  commencing  an  im- 
portant work,  to  know  beforehand  too  ivell  how  it  should 
be  done.  His  intellectual  insight  may  be  so  clear,  so 
sure  and  so  finely  exercised,  that  nothing  is  left  for  the 
imagination.  Instead  of  following  his  feeling,  knowing 
that  many  a  bright  surprise,  many  an  unexjDected  illu- 
mination of  thought  will  come  to  help  him  on  the  way, 
he  is  chilled  by  the  critical  faculty,  which  constantly 
looks  over  his  shoulder  and  meddles  with  his  freedom. 
The  evidence  of  this  is  nowhere  more  apparent  than  in 
Lessing's  poems  and  j)lays.  With  all  their  excellent 
qualities,  they  are  almost  wanting  in  that  warm,  imagi- 
native element  which  welds  thought  and  passion  and 
speech  into  one  inseparable  body.  It  is  remarkable 
that  his  style,  which  is  so  sustained,  so  dignified  and 
flexible  in  his  critical  papers,  should  seem  slightly  hard 
and  mechanical  in  his  verse.  His  most  ambitious  work, 
"Nathan  the  Wise,"  has  passages  where  the  blank 
verse  is  strong  and  rhythmical,  but  it  has  also  passages 
the  effect  of  which  is  not  different  from  that  of  prose. 
The  one  thing,  which  we  can  all  feel  better  than  de- 
10 


218  GERMAN  LITEBATURE, 

scribe,  was  wanting,  to  make  liim  a  truly  great  creative 
autlior ;  but  liacl  lie  possessed  it,  he  would  probably 
have  done  less  service  to  the  world.  Just  the  man 
that  he  was,  was  demanded  by  the  age  in  which  he 
lived. 

It  aj^pears  from  his  correspondence  and  the  testimony 
of  his  friends,  that  he  wrote  a  drama  entitled  "Faust^'' 
the  manuscript  of  which  was  lost  by  the  publisher  to 
whom  it  was  sent.  He  never  attempted  to  rewrite  it. 
From  the  small  fragment  which  remains,  and  some  ac- 
count of  the  design  of  the  whole  which  has  been  pre- 
served, this  work  was  undoubtedly  more  j)oetic  and 
imaginative  than  any  of  his  other  dramatic  poems.  It 
coincided  with  Goethe's  great  work  only  in  one  par- 
ticular— that  the  soul  of  Faust  is  not  lost,  and  Mephis- 
topheles  loses  his  wager.  His  mind  was  not  only  fruit- 
ful, but  very  raj)id  in  its  operation,  and  only  the 
smallest  portion  of  his  literary  plans  was  carried  into 
effect. 

One  of  the  severest  experiences  which  Lessing  was 
compelled  to  undergo  had  but  an  indirect  connection 
with  literature.  He  was  severely  attacked  by  Pastor 
Goeze,  of  Hamburg,  for  various  assertions  of  opinion, 
which  the  latter  declared  to  be  unchristian,  and  the 
quarrel  which  followed  lasted  during  the  whole  of  the 
year  1778.  It  was  carried  on  by  printed  pamphlets,  of 
which  Lessing  wrote  fifteen  or  sixteen.  The  ground 
which  Lessing  assumed  would  hardly  excite  any  particu- 


LE8SIN0.  219 

lar  comment  in  these  days.     He  declared,  for  instance, 
that  the  spirit  is  more  than  the  letter  ;  that  the  truth  of 
the  Gospels  is  inherent  in  them,  and  not  to  be  demon- 
strated by  external  proof ;  and  that  the  religion  of  Christ 
would  have  been  saved  to  the  world,  even  if  the  Gospels 
had  not  been  written.     It   is    difficult  for  us  to  com- 
prehend, now,  the  violence  and  bitterness  with  which 
Lessing  was   assailed.     Efforts  were  made  to  deprive 
him   of   his   situation   as   librarian;    the    Government 
Censor  interfered  with  his  replies,  and  his  life,  already 
so  lonely  and  cheerless,  was  made  almost  a  burden.  He 
never  flinched,  never  uttered  a  complaint,  never,  in  any 
way,  compromised  his  dignity  or  his  manly  indepen- 
dence ;  but  he  seems  to  have  lost  something  of  the  hope 
and  confidence  of  his  early  days.     He  must  have  grown 
somewhat  weary  and   discouraged.     No  man  stepped 
forward  to  stand  by  his  side,  and  help  him  fight  the 
battle,    and  the   thousands  of   eager   intelligences,  for 
whom  he  really  spoke  and  suffered,  were  silently  wait- 
ing the  result.      In  fact,  the  end  of  the   conflict  came 
when  Lessing,  after  having  forced  Pastor  Goeze  to  ad- 
mit that  the  authorities  of  the  Fathers  of  the  Church, 
during  the  first  four    centuries  of  Christianity,  would 
be  sufficient,  substantiated  everything  he  had  asserted 
by  quoting   the   opinions   of  the   Fathers.      In    scho- 
larship, no  theologian  of  his  day  came  near  him.     His 
influence,  as  a  religious  reformer,  has   been   immense, 
but  is  hardly  yet   recognized  by  the  world.      In  this 


220  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

sense,  lie  was  no  less  a  martyr  tlian  Arnold  of  Brescia 
and  Savonarola. 

When  his  "Nathan  the  Wise"  was  completed,  he 
issued  a  prospectus,  announcing  that  it  would  be  pub- 
lished by  subscription.  His  object  probably  was  to 
secure  a  little  more  from  the  publication  than  he  could 
expect  from  a  bookseller.  His  father  had  died  in  debt, 
and  the  calls  for  assistance  from  his  elder  sister  were 
both  sharp  and  frequent.  It  is  rather  melancholy  to 
read  his  appeal  to  his  friends,  informing  them  that  the 
price  of  the  work  will  be  one  groschen  (two  and  a  half 
cents)  for  each  printed  sheet,  and  that  they  may  deduct 
a  commission  of  fifteen  per  cent,  for  their  services  in  pro- 
curing subscriptions!  As  the  edition  did  not  exceed 
two  thousand  copies,  the  author's  profits  must  have  been 
very  moderate.  In  his  correspondence,  Lessing  speaks 
of  the  work  having  been  finished  three  years  previously, 
and  then  laid  aside.  He  declares  his  weariness  of  the 
theological  controversy,  and  speaks  of  the  play  as  "  an 
attack  in  flank,"  as  its  leading  idea  is  religious  toler- 
ance. The  three  j^rincipal  characters — ^Nathan,  Saladin 
and  the  Knight  Templar — represent  Judaism,  Islam 
and  Christianity  ;  and  the  lesson  to  be  deduced  from 
the  plot,  is  simply  that  the  test  of  the  true  religion  lies 
in  deeds  and  works,  and  not  in  the  mere  profession. 
The  finest  passage  in  the  work  is  the  story  of  the  rings, 
which  is  that  of  the  Jew  Melchisedech,  as  told  by 
Boccaccio,  in  the  third  tale  of  the  Decameron.     As  a 


LE88ING. 


221 


specimen  of  Lessing's  best  poetical  style,  and  a  parable 
through  which  he  expressed  his  own  tolerance,  I  will 
quote  it : 


]^ath.—Vor  grauen  Jahren  lebt 

ein  Mann  in  Osten, 
Der  einen  Ring  von  unscliatzba- 

rem  Wertli 
Aus   lieber  Hand    besass.     Der 

Stein  war  ein 
Opal,  der  bundert  scbone  Farben 

spielte, 
Und  batte  die  gebeime  Kraft,  vor 

Gott 
Und    Menscben    angenebra    zu 

macben,  wer 
In  dieser  Zuversicbt  ibn  trug. 

Was  VVunder 
Dass  ibn  der  Mann  in  Osten  da- 

rnm  nie 
Yom  Finger  liess  ;  und  die  Ver- 

fijgung  traf, 
Anf  ewJg  ibn  bey  seinem  Hause 

zu 
Erbalten.  Nebmlicb  so.  Er  liess 

den  Ring 
Von  seinen  Sobnen  deni  Gelieb- 

testen  ; 
Und  setzte  fest,  dass  diesser  wie- 

derum 
Den  Ring  von  seinen  Sobnen  dem 

vermacbe, 
Der  ibm  der  liebste  sey  ;    und 

stets  der  Liebste, 
Obn'  Ansebn  der  Geburt,  in  Kraft 

allein 
Des  Rings,  das  Haupt,  der  Fiirst 

des  Hauses  werde.— 
Versteb'  micb,  Sultan.  Sal. —Ich 
versteb  dicb.     Weiter  ! 


Nathan.— In  gray  antiquity  tbere 

lived  a  man 
In  Eastern  lands,   wbo  bad  re- 
ceived a  ring 
Of  priceless  wortb   from  a  be- 
loved band. 
Its  stone,  an  opal,  flasbed  a  bun- 

dred  colors, 
And  bad   tbe  secret   power   of 

giving  favor 
In  sigbt  of  God  and  man,  to  Mm 

wbo  wore  it 
Witb  a  believing  beart.     Wbat 

wonder  tben 
Tbis  Eastern  man  would  never 

put  tbe  ring 
From  off  bis  finger,  and  sbould 

so  provide 
Tbat  to  bis  bouse  it  be  preserved 

for  ever. 
Sucb  was  tbe  case.     Unto  tbe 

best-beloved 
Among  bis  sons  be  left  tbe  ring, 

enjoining 
Tbat  be  in  turn  bequeatb  it  to 

tbe  son 
Wbo  sbould  be  dearest  ;  and  tbe 
dearest  ever, 

virtue  of  tbe  ring,  witbout 
regard 

birtb,   be  of  tbe  bouse  tbe 
prince  and  bead. 
Tou  understand  me.  Sultan  ? 


In 


To 


^aZ.-Yes; 


go  on  I 


222 


GERMANS'  LITEBATURE. 


Nath. — So  kam  nun  dieser  Ring, 

von  Sohn  zu  Soliu, 
Auf   einen    Vater    endlich    von 

drey  Scilinen  ; 
Die  alle  drej  ilim  gleicli  gelior- 

sani  waren, 
Die  alle  drey  er  folglicli  gleicli 

zu  lieben 
Sicli   nicht    entbreclien  konnte. 

Xur  von  Zeit 
Zu  Zeit  sckien  ilim  bald  der.  bald 

dieser,  bald 
Der  Dritte,  —  so  wie  jeder  sicb 

mit  ilim 
Allein  befand,   und    sein  ergie- 

ssend  Herz 
Die  andern  zwey  nicht  theilten, — 

wiirdiger 
Des  Ringes,   den  er    denn  aucb 

einem  jeden 
Die  fromme  Schwaclilieit  liatte, 

zu  versprecben. 
Das  ging  nun  so,  so  lang  es  ging. 

— Allein 
Es  kam  zuni  Sterben,  und  der" 

gute  Vater 
Koninit     in    Verlegenbeit.       Es 

sclimerzt  ihn,  zwey 
Von  seinen  Sobnen,  die  sicb  auf 

sein  Wort 
Verlassen,  so  zu  kranken, — Was 

zu  tbun  ? — 
Er  sendet  in  gebeim  zu   einem 

Kiinstler, 
Bey  dem  er,  nacb  dem  Muster 

seines  Ringes, 
Zwey  andere  bestellt,  und  weder 

Kosten, 
Nocb    Miibe  sparen   beisst,  sie 

jenem  gleicb. 


Nathan. — From  son  to  son  the 

ring  descending,  came 
To  one,    the  sire   of  three  ;    of 

whom  all  three 
Were  equally  obedient  ;   whom 

all  three 
He  therefore  must  with   equal 

love  regard. 
And  yet  from  time  to  time  now 

this,  now  that. 
And  now   the    third, — as    each 

alone  was  by. 
The  others  not  dividing  his  fond 

heart, — 
Appeared  to  him  the  worthiest 

of  the  ring  ; 
Which  then,  with  loving  weak- 
ness, he  would  promise 
To  each  in  turn.     Thus  it  con- 
tinued long. 
But  he  must  die  ;  and  then  the 

loving  father 
Was  sore  perplexed.     It  grieved 

him  thus  to  wound 
Two  faithful  sons  who  trusted 

in  his  word  ; 
But  what  to  do  ?    In  secrecy  he 

calls 
An  artist  to  him,  and  commands 

of  him 
Two  other  rings,  the  pattern  of 

his  own  ; 
And  bids  him  neither  cost  nor 

pains  to  spare 


LE88ING. 


223 


Vollkommen  gleich  zu  machen. 

Das  gelingt 
Dem  Kiinstler.     Da  er  ihm  die 

Ringe  bringt, 
Kann   selbst   der    Vater   seinen 

Musterring 
Kicht  untersclieiden.     Froli  und 

freudig  ruft 
Er  seine  Sohtie,  jedeninsbeson- 

dre ; 
Giebt  jedem  ins  besondre  seinen 

Seegen, — 
Und  seinen  Ring,  -und  stirbt. — 

Du  liorst  doch,  Sultan  ? 
Sal. — Ich  hor',  icli  liore  !  Komm 

mit  deinem  Mahrchen 
Nun  bald  zu  Ende.  —  Wird's  ? 

Nath. — Ich  bin  zuEnde. 
Denn  was   nocli  folgt,  versteht 

sicli  ja  von  selbst. — 
Kaum   war  der  Vater   todt,    so 

kommt  ein  jeder 
Mit   seinem    Ring. — Und  jeder 

will  der  Fiirst 
Des   Hauses  seyn.     Man  unter- 

suclit,  man  zankt, 
Man  klagt.  Umsonst,  der  rechte 

Ring  war  nicht 
Erweislicli ; — {nach  einer  Pause, 

in    welcher    er  des    Sultans 

Antwort  erwartet]    fast    so 

unerweislich,  als 
Uns    jtzt— der    rechte    Glaube. 

Sal.— Wiet  das  soil 
Die    Antwort  seyn    auf    meine 

Frage?    Nath.—^oW 
Midi  bios  entscliuldigen,  wenn 

icli  die  Ringe 
Mir  nicht  getrau  zu  unterschei- 

den,  die 


To  make  them   like,  precisely 

like  to  that. 
The  artist's  skill  succeeds.     He 

brings  the  rings. 
And  e'en  the  father  cannot  tell 

his  own. 
Relieved  and  joyful,  summons 

he  his  sons, 
Each  by  himself ;  to  each  one 

by  himself 
He  gives  his  blessing,  and  his 

ring — and  dies. — 

You  listen,  Sultan  ? 

Sal— Yes  ; 
I  hear,  I  hear. 

But  bring  your  story  to  an  end. 
Nath. — 'Tis  ended. 

For  what  remains  would  tell  it- 
self.    The  father 

Was   scarcely  dead  when  each 
brings  forth  his  ring. 

And      claims      the      headship. 
Questioning  ensues. 

Strife,  and  appeal  to  law ;  but 
all  in  vain. 

The  genuine  ring  was  not  to  be 
distinguished  ; — 

[After    a   pause,    in    which    he 
aicaits  the  Sultan's  answer.'] 

As    undistinguishable    as    with 

us 
The   true   religion.     /Sa?.— That 

your  answer  to  me  ? 
Nath. — But  my  apology  for  not 

presuming 
Between    the    rings    to    judge^ 

which  with  design 


224 


GERMAN  LITERATURE. 


Der  Vater  in   der  Absiclit  ma- 

chen  liess, 
Damit  sie   nicht  zu  unterschei- 

den  waren, 
Sal. — Die  Ringe  !— Spiele  nicht 

mit  mil-  !— Ich  daclite, 
Dass  die  Religionen,  die  ich  dir 

Genannt,    doch    wol   zu  unter- 

scheiden  wiiren. 
Bis  auf  die  Kleidung  ;    bis  auf 

Speis  iind  Trank  ! 
Nath. — Und     nur     von     Seiten 

ihrer  Grunde  nicht. — 
Denn  griinden   alle   sich    nicht 

auf  Geschichte  ? 
Geschriebeu  oder  iiberliefert  ! — 

Und 
Geschichte  muss  doch  wohl  al- 

lein  auf  Treu 
Und  Glauben  angenommen  wer- 

den  ?— Xicht  ? 
Nun,  wessen  Treu  und  Glauben 

zieht  man  denn 
Am  wenigsten  in  Zweif el  ?  Doch 

der  Seinen  ? 
Doch  deren  Blut  wir  sind  ?  doch 

deren,  die 
Von    Kindheit    an    uns   Proben 

ihrer  Liebe 
Gegeben?  die  unsnie  getauscht, 

als  wo 
Getiiuscht  zu  werden  uns  heil- 

samer  war  ? — 
Wie  kann    ich    meinen   Vatern 

weniger, 
Als    du    den    deiuen    glauben  ? 

Oder  umgekehrt. — 
Kann  ich  von  dir  verlangen ,  dass 

du  deine 


The    father    ordered    undistin- 
guishable. 


/Sa?.— The  rings?  — You  trifle 
with  me.     The  religions 

I  named  to  you  are  plain  to  be 
distinguished — 

E'en  in  the  dress,  e'en  in  the 
food  and  drink. 


Nath. — In  all  except  the 
grounds  on  which  thev  rest. 

Are  they  not  founded  all  on 
history. 

Traditional  or  written  ?    History 

Can  be  accepted  only  upon  trust. 

"Whom  now  are  we  the  least  in- 
clined to  doubt  ? 
Not  our  own   people — our  own 

blood  ;  not  those 
'Wh.o    from    our    childhood   up 

have  proved  their  love  ; 
Ne'er  disappointed,  save  when 

disappointment 
Was   wholesome  to  us  ?    Shall 

my  ancestors 
Receive  less  faith  from  me,  than 

yours  from  you  ? 
Reverse  it :     Can  I  ask  you  to 

belie 


LES8ING. 


225 


Vorfahren     Liigen    strafst,    um 

meinen  nicht 
Zu   widerspreclien?      Oder  um- 

gekelirt. 
Das    nehmliche    gilt    von    den 

Christen.     Nicht  ? — 
Sal. — (Bey  dem  Lebendigen!  Der 

Mann  hat  Recht. 
Ich  muss  verstummen. )    Nath.  — 

Lass  auf  unsre  Ring' 
Uns  wleder  kommen.     Wie  ge- 

sagt :  die  Sohne 
Verklagten     sich ;     und     jeder 

schwur  dem  Richter, 
Unmittelbar    aus    seines  Vaters 

Hand 
Den  Ring  zu  haben. — Wie  auch 

wahr  ! — Nachdem 
Er  von  ihm  lange  das  Verspre- 

chen  schon 
Gehabt,  des  Ringes  Vorrecht  ein- 

mal  zu 
Geniessen. — Wie    nicht   minder 

wahr  ! — Der  Vater, 
Betheur'te  jeder,    konne    gegen 

ihn 
Nicht  falsch  gewesen  seyn  ;  und 

eh'  er  dieses 
Von  ihm,  von  einem  solchen  lie- 
ben  Vater, 
Argwohnen  lass'  :    eh'  miiss'   er 

seine  Briider, 
So  gem  er  sonst  von  ihnen  nur 

das  Beste 
Bereit  zu  glauben  sey,  des  fal- 

schen  Spiels 
Bezeihen  ;  und  er  woUe  die  Ver- 

rather 
Schon  auszufinden  wissen  ;  sich 

schon  riichen. 

10* 


Tour  fathers,  and  transfer  your 

faith  to  mine  ? 
Or  yet,  again,  holds  not  the  same 

with  Christians  ? 


Sal. — (By  heaven,  the  man  is 
right  !  I've  naught  to  an- 
swer.) 

Nath. — Return  we  to  our  rings. 

As  I  have  said, 
The  sons  appealed  to  law,  and 

each  took  oath 
Before  the  judge  that  from  his 

father's  hand 
He  had  the  ring, — as  was  indeed 

the  truth  ; 
And  had  received  his  promise 

long  before, 
One   day  the  ring,  with  all  its 

privileges. 
Should  be  his  own, — as  was  not 

less  the  truth. 
The  father  could  not  have  been 

false  to  him, 
Each  one  maintained  ;  and   ra- 
ther than  allow 
Upon  the  memory  of  so  dear  a 

father 
Such  stain    to    rest,     he    must 

against  his  brothers. 
Though  gladly  he  would  nothing 

but  the  best 
Believe  of  them,  bring  charge  of 

treachery  ; 
Means  would  he  find  the  traitors 

to  expose, 
And    be     revenged     on    them. 

Sal. — And  now  the  judge  ? 


226 


GERMAN  LITERATURE. 


Sal.—rnd  nun,  der  Ricliter?— 

Mich  verlangt  zu  horen, 
Was  du  den  Ricliter  sagen  liis- 

sest.      Spricli ! 
Nath. — Der  Ricliter  spracli:  wenn 

ihr  mir  nun  den  Vater 
Nicht  bald  zur  Stelle  schafEt,  so 

weis'  icli  eucli 
Von  meinem  Stuhle.    Denkt  ihr, 

dass  ich  Rathsel 
Zu  losen  da  bin  ?  Oder  harret  ihr. 

Bis  dass    der  rechte   Ring  den 

Mund  eroffne  ? — 
Doch  halt  !       Ich   hore  ja,   der 

rechte  Ring 
Besitzt     die    Wunderkraft,    be- 

liebt  zu  machen  ; 
Vor   Gott  und   Menschen  ange- 

nehm.     Das  muss 
Entscheiden  !  Denn  die  falschen 

Ringe  werden 
Doch  das  nicht  konnen  ! — Nun, 

wen  lieben  zwey 
Von  euch  am  meisten  ? — Macht, 

sagt  an  !     Ihr  schweigt  ? 
Die  Ringe  vvirken  nur  zurlick  ? 

und  nicht 
Nach  aussen?    Jeder  liebt  sich 

selber  nur 
Am  meisten  ? — 0  so  seyd  ihr  alle 

drey 
Betrogene  Betriiger!  Eure  Ringe. 
Sind  alle  drey  nicht  echt.     Der 

echte  Ring 
Vermuthlich  ging  verloren.  Den 

Verlust 
Zu  bergen,  zu  ersetzen,  liess  der 

Vater 
Die  drey  f  iir  einen  machen. 


I  long  to  hear  what  words  yon 

give  the  judge. 
Go  on  1 

Kath. — Thus  spoke  the  judge: 
Produce  your  father 

At  once  before  me,  else  from  my 
tribunal 

Do  I  dismiss  you.  Think  you  I 
am  here 

To  guess  your  riddles  ?  Either 
would  you  wait 

Until  the  genuine  ring  shall 
speak  ?— But  hold  ! 

A  magic  power  in  the  true  ring 
resides, 

As  I  am  told,  to  make  its  wearer 
loved, — 

Pleasing  to  God  and  man.  Let 
that  decide. 

For  in  the  false  can  no  such  vir- 
tue lie. 

Which  one  among  you,  then,  do 
two  love  best  ? 

Speak  !  Are  you  silent  ?  Work 
the  rings  but  backward. 

Not  outward?  Loves  each  one 
himself  the  best  ? 

Then  cheated  cheats  are  all  of 
you  !     The  rings 

All  three  are  false.  The  genu- 
ine ring  was  lost  ; 

And  to  conceal,  supply  the  loss, 
the  father 

Made  three  in  place  of  one. 


LE88ING. 


227 


gal. — Herrlich,  "herrlicli ! 
Nath. — Und  also,  fiihr  der  Rich- 

ter  fort,  wetin  ilir 
Nicht  meineu  Rath,  statt  meines 

Spruclies  wollt  : 
Geht  nur  !— Mein  Rath  ist  aber 

der :  ihr  nehmt 
Die  Sache  vollig  wie  sie  liegt. 

Hat  von 
Euch  jeder  seinen  Ring  von  sei- 

nem  Vater 
So  glaube    jeder  sicher  seinen 

Ring 
Den  echten. — M6glich,  dass  der 

Vater  nun 
Die  Tyranney  des   Einen  Rings 

nicht  1  anger 
In  seinem  Hause  dulden  wollen! 

— Und  gewiss  ; 
Dass  er  euch  alle  drey  geliebt, 

und  gleich 
Geliebt :    indem  er  zwey  nicht 

driicken  mogen, 
Um    einen     zu   begiinstigen. — 

Wohlan  ! 
Es  eifre  jeder  seiner  unbestoch- 

nen, 
Von  Vorurtheilen  freyen  Liebe 

nach  ! 
Es  strebe  von  euch  jeder  um  die 

Wette, 
Die  Kraft  des  Steins  in  seinem 

Ring  'an  Tag 
Zu  legen  !  komme  dieser  Kraft 

mit  Sanftmuth, 
Mit    herzlicher  Vertraglichkeit, 

mit  Wohlthun, 
Mit    innigster    Ergebenheit    in 

Gott, 


Sal.— Oh,  excellenti 
Nath. — Go,  therefore,   said  the 

judge,  unless  my  counsel 
You'd  have  in  place  of  sentence. 

It  were  this  : 
Accept  the   case   exactly  as  it 

stands. 
Had  each  his  ring  directly  from 

his  father, 
Let  each  believe  his  own  is  gen- 
uine. 
'Tis  possible,  your  father  would 

no  longer 
His  hoase  to  one  ring's  tyranny 

subject ; 
And  certain  that  all  three  of  you 

he  loved. 
Loved    equally,    since    two    he 

would  not  humble. 
That  one  might  be  exalted.    Let 

each  one 
To  his  unbought,  impartial  love 

aspire  ; 
Each  with  the  others  vie  to  bring 

to  light 
The  virtue  of  the  stone  within 

his  ring  ; 
Let  gentleness,  a  hearty  love  of 

peace, 
Beneficence,  and  perfect  trust  in 

God, 


228  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

Zu  Hillf '  !  Und  wenn  sicli  dann  Come  to  his  help.  Then  if  the 
der  Steine  Krafte  jewel's  power 

Bey  euern  Kindes  -  Kindeskin-  Among  your  children's  children 
dern  aiissern  :  be  revealed, 

So  lad'  ich  iiber  tausend  tausend  I  bid  you  in  a  thousand,  thousand 


Jahre, 


years. 


Sie  wiederum  vor  diesen  Stuhl.  Again  before  this  bar.     A  wisei 

Da  wird  man 

Ein  weisrer    Mann  auf  diesem  Than  I  shall  occupy  this    seat, 

Stuhle  sitzen,  and  speak, 

Als  ich ;  und  sprechen,    Gebt  I —  Go  ! — Thus   the    modest    judge 

So  sagte  der  dismissed  them! 
Bescheidne  Richter. 

Ellen  Frothingham. 

"  Natlian  the  Wise  "  was  not  immediately  popular : 
too  many  hostile  elements  were  combined  against  its 
author.  The  sectarian  spirit  of  Germany  was  deter- 
mined, in  advance,  not  to  accept  it ;  and  the  crowd  of 
pretentious  scholars  and  second-rate  authors,  who  had 
felt  the  sting  of  Lessing's  criticis-m,  took  every  oppor- 
tunity of  revenge.  He  was  accused  of  glorifying  Juda- 
ism, in  the  person  of  Xathan,  at  the  expense  of  Chris- 
tianity, and  the  slander  was  everywhere  circulated  and 
believed,  that  the  Jews  of  Amsterdam  had  sent  him  a 
gift  of  a  thousand  ducats.  He  outlived  the  violence  of 
the  assault,  but  with  failing  health  came  a  weariness  of 
the  struggle  ;  and  his  last  work,  "  The  Education  of  the 
Human  Race,"  shows  traces  of  a  desire  to  avoid  any  fur- 
ther controversy.  What  general  popularity  he  enjoyed 
during  his  life  came  from  his  three  earlier  dramas ;  but 
the  recognition  of  the  best  minds — the  only  fame  which 
a  poet  values — was   due   to   his  "  Laocoon"    His  life 


LE8SING.  229 

was  not  without  its  compensations.  The  hot  water  in 
which  he  lived  was  much  preferable  to  the  stagnant 
water  in  which  his  literary  predecessors  had  slowly  de- 
cayed. There  was  day-break  in  the  sky  before  he  died, 
and  he,  who  anticipated  so  many  of  the  currents  of 
thought  of  the  present  day,  certainly  had  clearness  of 
vision  to  see  the  coming  change.  He  was  like  the  leader 
of  a  forlorn  hope,  who  falls  at  the  moment  when  victory 
is  secured. 

The  strongest  quality  of  Lessing's  mind  was  his  pas- 
sion for  positive  truth.  The  passage  in  which  he  sub- 
limely expresses  this  aspiration  has  been  often,  quoted, 
but  I  must  give  it  again  :  "  Not  the  truth  of  which  any 
one  is,  or  supposes  himself  to  be,  possessed,  but  the 
upright  endeavor  he  has  made  to  arrive  at  truth,  makes 
the  worth  of  the  man.  For  not  by  the  possession,  but 
by  the  investigation  of  truth  are  his  powers  expanded, 
and  therein  alone  consists  his  ever-growing  perfection. 
If  God  held  all  truth  shut  in  his  right  hand,  and  in  his 
left  hand  nothing  but  the  ever-restless  instinct  for 
truth,  though  with  the  condition  of  forever  and  ever 
erring,  and  should  say  to  me,  '  Choose ! '  I  should 
humbly  bow  to  his  left  hand,  and  say :  *  Father,  give  ! 
Pure  truth  is  for  thee  alone  ! '  " 

The  period  between  1729  and  1781,  which  Lessing's 
life  covers,  was  that  of  transition — and  a  transition  all 
the  more  difficult  and  convulsive  because,  for  a  hundred 
years  previous,  the  intellectual  life  of  Germany  lay  in 


230  GERM  AX  LITERATURE. 

a  trance  resembling  death.  Althougli  the  influence  of 
Eousseau  and  Yoltaire,  felt  in  Germany  only  less  pow- 
erfully than  in  France,  helped  to  break  uj)  the  old  order 
of  things,  there  was  not  the  least  connection  between 
their  action  and  that  of  Lessing.  He  made  Yoltaire's 
acquaintance  only  to  become  involved  in  a  personal 
quarrel  with  him,  and  his  works  show  no  trace  of  Rous- 
seau's ideas  concerning  education  and  society.  He 
moved  forward  on  a  line  parallel  with  other  prominent 
minds  in  other  countries,  but  always  retained  a  com- 
plete independence  of  them.  When  he  died,  the  period 
of  struggle  was  really  over,  although  the  fact  was  not 
yet  manifest.  Goethe  had  published  ''Gotz  von  Ber- 
UcMngen"  and  "  Werther,''  and  Schiller  had  just  writ- 
ten "i)/e  Rdubery  Herder  had  given  to  the  world 
his  '^Poetry  of  the  People,"  and  was  employed  upon 
his  "  Spirit  of  Hebrew  Poetry ;  "  and  Richter,  a  student 
of  nineteen,  had  just  awakened  to  a  knowledge  of  his 
own  genius.  One  by  one,  the  pedants  and  the  mechan- 
ical organ-grinders  of  literature  were  passing  off  the 
stage.  French  taste  died  two  years  later,  in  the  person 
of  its  last  representative,  Frederic  the  Great,  and  the 
close  air  of  Germany  was  at  last  vitalized  by  the  fresh 
oxygen  of  original  thought.  Lessing's  career,  indeed, 
might  be  compared  to  a  pure,  keen  blast  of  mountain 
wind,  let  loose  upon  a  company  of  enervated  persons, 
dozing  in  an  atmosphere  of  exhausted  ingredients  and 
stale  perfumes.     It  was  a  breath  of  life,  but  it  made 


LESsmo.  231 

them  shriek  and  shudder.  "When  thej  tried  to  close 
the  window  upon  him,  he  smashed  the  panes ;  and  then, 
with  the  irreverence  of  all  free,  natural  forces,  he  began 
to  blow  the  powder  from  their  wigs  and  the  wigs  from 
their  heads.  There  is  something  comically  pitiful  in 
the  impotent  wrath  with  which  they  attempted  to  sup- 
press him.  We  can  imagine  Gottsched,  amazed  and 
incredulous  that  any  one  should  dare  to  dispute  his 
pompous  authority,  and  even  the  good  and  gentle  Gel- 
lert,  grieving  over  the  pranks  of  this  uncontrollable 
young  poet.  We  may  be  sure  that  none  of  his  faults  of 
character  were  left  undiscovered,  and  there  are  few  men 
of  equal  power  whose  character  shows  so  fairly  after 
such  a  scrutiny.  He  was  accused  of  being  a  gambler ; 
but  the  facts  of  his  life  are  the  best  answer  to  the 
charge.  As  a  poorly-paid  writer  for  the  press  in  Ber- 
lin, and  a  general's  secretary  in  Breslau,  he  supported 
himself,  contributed  toward  the  education  of  his  bro- 
thers, and  collected  a  choice  library  of  six  thousand 
volumes.  It  is  not  easy  to  see  what  would  be  left  for 
gambling  purposes,  after  accomplishing  all  this.  His 
letters  to  his  father  exhibit  a  tender  filial  respect,  a 
patience  under  blame  and  misrepresentation,  and  a 
gentle  yet  firm  resistance,  based  on  a  manly  trust  in 
himself,  the  like  of  which  I  know  not  where  to  find. 
In  him,  genius  and  personal  character  are  not  to  be 
separated.  In  one  of  his  conversations  with  Ecker- 
mann,  Goethe  exclaimed :    "  We  have  great  need  of  a 


232  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

man  like  Lessing ;  for  wherein  is  lie  so  great  as  in  his 
character,  in  his  firm  hold  of  things  ?  There  may  be  as 
shrewd  and  intelligent  men,  but  where  is  such  a  char- 
acter?" At  another  time  Goethe  said:  "  Lessing  dis- 
claimed any  right  to  the  lofty  title  of  a  genius  ;  but  his 
permanent  influence  testifies  against  himself."  Goethe 
always  considered  it  his  special  good  fortune  that  Les- 
sing existed  as  a  guide  for  his  youth.  He  compares 
the  appearance  of  ^^3Iinna  von  Barnhelm  "  to  that  of 
a  shining  meteor,  bursting  suddenly  on  the  darkness 
of  the  age.  "It  opened  our  eyes  to  the  fact,"  he 
says,  "that  there  was  something  higher,  something  of 
which  that  weak  literary  epoch  had  no  comprehen- 
sion." 

I  hope  that  the  distinction  which  I  have  already  indi- 
cated is  now  tolerably  clear — that  as  a  creative  intellect, 
the  highest  rank  cannot  be  awarded  to  Lessing ;  while, 
as  a  revolutionary  power,  as  a  shaping  and  organizing 
force,  he  has  scarcely  his  equal  in  history.  He  was  a 
Reformer,  in  the  truest  sense  of  the  word,  and  bore 
himself  through  life  with  the  same  independence,  the 
same  dignity,  the  same  simple  reliance  on  truth,  as 
Luther  at  Worms.  Notwithstanding  the  ephemeral 
nature  of  many  of  his  controversies,  the  greater  part 
of  them  may  still  be  read  with  profit ;  for  the  truth  that 
is  in  them  belongs  to  no  time  or  country.  While  some 
of  his  contemporaries — Klopstock  and  Wieland,  for  ex- 
ample— are  gradually  losing  their  prominence  in  Ger- 


LESsmo.  233 

man  literature,  the  place  wliicli  Lessing  fills  is  becom- 
ing larger  and  more  important.  In  one  of  liis  early 
letters  to  his  father,  he  says  :  "  If  I  could  become  the 
German  Moliere,  I  should  gain  an  immortal  name."  He 
did  more  than  this ;  he  became  the  German  Lessing  I 


KLOPSTOCK,  WIELAND  AND  HERDER. 

I  AM  obliged,  by  mj  limits,  to  group  together  in  one 
lecture,  the  three  distinguished  contemporaries  of  Les- 
sing — Klopstock,  Wieland  and  Herder — who  also  as- 
sisted, though  by  very  different  methods,  in  the  literary 
regeneration  of  Germany.  There  was  no  immediate 
connection  between  his  and  their  labors,  except  that  all 
tended  in  the  same  direction ;  and  the  most  I  can  at- 
tempt will  be  to  give  a  brief  outline  of  their  lives,  and  the 
special  influence  which  the  mind  of  each  exercised  upon 
the  period  in  which  they  lived.  As  all  three  survived 
the  close  of  the  century,  they  were  more  fortunate  than 
Lessing,  in  beholding  the  transition  accomplished — in 
seeing  the  age  of  formality  and  pedantry  buried  without 
funeral  honors,  and  the  age  of  free,  vigorous  and  vital 
thought  triumjDhantly  inaugurated. 

Although  Klopstock,  who  was  born  in  1724,  was  five 
years  older  than  Lessing,  the  two  were  students  together 
at  the  University  of  Leipzig,  in  1746,  and  Lessing's  dthut 
as  a  dramatic  author  was  coeval  with  the  publication  of  the 
first  three  cantos  of  Klopstock's  "  J/emas."  This  is  the 
only  coincident  circumstance  in  their  lives ;  in  all  X)ther 

234 


EL0P8T0CE,    WIELANB   AND  HERDER.  235 

respects  there  is  the  greatest  iiulikeness.  Klopstock,  a 
native  of  Quedlinburg,  in  Northern  Germany,  was  the 
son  of  an  official,  in  easy  circumstances.  His  education, 
completed  at  Jena  and  Leipzig,  was  thorough;  no  dis- 
couragements met  his  early  aspirations,  and  his  very 
first  literary  venture  gave  him  fame  and  popularity.  As 
a  boy,  his  ambition  was  to  produce  a  great  German  epic, 
and  he  first  selected  the  Emperor,  Henry  the  Fowler j  as 
his  hero.  The  study  of  theology  in  Jena,  and  proba- 
bly Milton's  example,  led  him  to  change  the  plan,  and 
adopt,  instead,  the  character  of  Christ.  His  classic 
tastes  suggested  the  form :  a  German  counterpart  of  the 
"Iliad,"  he  imagined,  must  also  be  written  in  hexameters. 
The  first  three  cantos  of  the  "Jlessias  "  were  published 
in  1748,  when  he  was  twenty-four  years  old,  and  created 
the  profoundest  impression  all  over  Germany.  They 
were  read  with  a  reverence,  a  pious  fervor,  scarcely  less 
than  that  claimed  for  the  Sacred  Writings.  Gottsched 
and  his  school,  it  is  true,  attempted  to  depreciate  the 
work ;  but  it  was  not  felt  by  the  people  to  be  a  violent 
or  dangerous  innovation,  and  its  popularity  was  not  ef- 
fected by  the  attack.  On  the  other  hand,  Klopstock 
was  welcomed  by  the  Swiss  school,  and  invited  by  Bod- 
mer,  its  head,  to  visit  Zurich.  I  must  here  explain  that 
Zurich  was  then  an  important  literary  centre.  Tho 
English  influence  was  there  predominant,  as  the  French 
was  at  Leipzig,  and  the  two  schools  were  therefore  an- 
tagonistic.    In  intellectual  force  and  temper  there  was 


236  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

not  much  difference  between  the  two,  but  they  achieved 
some  good  by  partly  neutralizing  each  other's  power. 

Klopstock  went  to  Zurich  in  1750,  but  did  not  remain 
there  long.  Baron  Bernstorff,  one  of  the  King  of  Den- 
mark's ministers,  invited  him  to  Copenhagen,  offering  four 
hundred  thalers  a  year  for  his  support,  in  order  that  he 
might  be  free  to  finish  his  "  Messiah."  The  proj^osal 
was  accepted,  the  salary  became  a  pension  for  life,  and 
for  twenty  years  Klopstock  divided  his  time  between 
Copenhagen  and  Hamburg.  He  had  no  material  cares  ; 
his  popularity  as  a  poet  was  so  great,  that  it  now  seems 
almost  disproportionate  to  his  deserts,  and  the  only 
shadow  upon  his  fortune  was  the  death  of  his  wife,  Meta 
MoUer,  whom  he  lost  in  1758,  four  years  after  their 
marriage.  In  1771  he  left  Denmark,  and  took  up  his 
permanent  residence  in  Hamburg,  where,  about  the 
year  1800,  he  was  visited  by  Wordsworth  and  Cole- 
ridge. His  death  took  place  in  1803,  at  the  age  of 
seventy-nine. 

The  importance  of  his  life,  however,  must  not  be 
measured  by  its  uneventful  character.  With  the  ex- 
cejDtion  of  his  one  great  sorrow,  his  years  rolled  away 
tranquilly  and  happily.  He  was  a  frank,  honest  and 
loving  nature,  attracting  to  himself  the  best  friendship 
of  men,  and  the  enthusiastic  admiration  of  women. 
The  Danish  pension,  which  he  received  at  the  beginning 
of  his  career,  secured  him  against  want,  and,  with  all  the 
breadth  and  humanity  of  his  views,  he  was  fortunate 


KLOPSTOCK,   WIELAND  AND  HERDER.  237 

enough  to  escape  any  serious  persecution.  Yet,  although 
his  life  was  so  serene  and  successful,  the  influences 
which  flowed  from  his  works  were  none  the  less  potent. 
He  was  also  a  reformer,  although  not  militant,  like 
Lessing.  We  do  not  see  the  flash  of  his  sword,  and 
mark  the  heads  that  fall  at  every  swing  of  his  arm  ;  but 
if  we  look  closely,  we  shall  find  that  the  strength  of  the 
enemy  is  slowly  sapped,  and  his  power  of  resistance 
paralyzed. 

In  examining  Klopstock's  place  as  an  author,  we 
must  avoid  the  injustice  of  applying  the  standard  of  a 
modern  and  more  intelligent  taste  to  his  works.  The 
very  fact  that  he  attained  a  swift  and  widely-extended 
popularity,  proves  two  things — that  there  was  an  ami- 
able, sympathetic  quality  in  his  mind,  which  appealed 
to  the  sentiment  of  his  readers,  and  that  he  did  not 
rise  so  far  above  their  intellectual  plane  that  they  were 
unable  to  follow  him.  He  might,  indeed,  have  diverged 
more  Avidely  from  the  taste  of  his  time,  and  still  retained 
his  popularity ;  for  he  possessed  one  of  the  radical  quali- 
ties of  the  German  nature,  which  was  almost  wanting 
in  Lessing — sentiment.  He  had  the  power  of  drawing 
easy  tears,  even  from  those  who  were  unable  to  ap- 
preciate his  genius.  He  was  more  or  less  a  spoiled 
child,  through  his  whole  life.  Portions  of  his  history 
read  very  strangely  to  us  now.  On  leaving  the  Univer- 
sity, he  fell  in  love  with  a  cousin,  whom  he  addressed 
as  "  Fanny  "  in  a  number  of  despairing  Odes,  because 


238  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

liis  affection  was  not  returned.  He  read  these  Odes 
in  private  circles,  weejDing  as  he  read,  and  moving 
his  hearers  to  floods  of  tears.  "  Fanny "  was  soon 
overwhelmed  with  letters  from  all  parts  of  Germany, 
even  from  Bodmer  in  Switzerland,  either  reproaching 
her  for  her  cruelty,  or  imploring  her  to  yield.  I  am 
glad  to  say  that  she  had  character  enough  to  refuse, 
and  to  marry  a  man  whom  she  loved.  Klopstock, 
afterward,  floating  on  the  Lake  of  Zurich,  with  large 
companies  of  men  and  maidens,  continued  to  repeat  his 
melancholy  verses,  until  he  and  all  the  others  wept, 
finally  kissed  all  around,  and  cried  out :  "  This  is  Ely- 
sium ! " 

What  is  called  the  Sturm  und  Drang  period  of  Ger- 
man literature  (Carlyle  translates  the  phrase  by  "  Storm 
and  Stress  "),  was  partly  a  natural  and  inevitable  phase 
of  development ;  but  in  so  far  as  it  was  brought  about 
by  the  influence  of  living  authors,  Klopstock  must  be 
looked  upon  as  one  of  the  chief  agencies.  When  we 
hear  of  the  boy  Goethe  and  his  sister  Cornelia  declaim- 
ing passages  from  the  "Messiah,"  with  such  energy 
that  the  frightened  barber  dro]3ped  his  basin,  and  came 
near  gashing  the  throat  of  Goethe  the  father,  we  may 
guess  the  power  of  the  impression  which  Klopstock 
made.  It  is  not  sufficient,  therefore,  that  we  read  the 
"  Messiah "  as  if  it  had  been  written  yesterday.  We 
may  smile  at  its  over-laden  passion  and  its  diffusive 
sentiment,  but  Avhen  we  come  to  it  from  the  literature 


KLOPSTOCK,  WIELAND  AND  HERDER.         239 

which  preceded  it,  we  feel,  by  contrast,  that  a  pure  and 
refreshing  stream  of  poetry  has  at  last  burst  forth  from 
the  barren  soil.  The  number  of  those  who  in  Germany, 
at  present,  read  the  whole  of  the  "Messiah,"  is  larger 
than  the  number  of  those  who  in  England  now  read  the 
whole  of  S]3enser's  '*  Faery  Queene  ;  "  but  it  is  yet  very 
small.  In  fact,  life  is  too  short  for  a  poem  of  twenty  can- 
tos and  twenty  thousand  lines  of  hexameter,  unless  it  be 
a  truly  great  poem.  Klopstock  began  the  publication  of 
the  "  Messiah  "  in  1748  and  finished  it  in  1773 — a  period 
of  twenty-five  years.  It  would  take  more  time  than  I 
can  now  spare,  to  give  even  an  outline  of  the  poem. 
It  commences  with  the  withdrawal  of  Christ  apart  from 
his  disciples,  to  commune  with  God  upon  Mount  Olivet, 
includes  the  Last  Supper,  the  Trial,  Crucifixion  and 
Resurrection,  and  closes  in  Heaven,  when  Christ  takes 
his  seat,  as  the  Son,  on  the  right  hand  of  the  Father. 
The  action,  however,  is  complicated  by  the  introduction 
of  a  great  number  of  angels  and  devils,  and  the  souls  of 
all  the  chief  personages  of  the  Old  Testament,  l^egin- 
ning  with  Adam  and  Eve.  Even  the  daughter  of  Jairus 
and  the  son  of  the  widow  of  Nain  are  among  the  char- 
acters. 

The  opening  lines  remind  us  both  of  Homer  and  of 
Milton : 

Sing',  unsterbliclie  Seele,  der  siin-  Sing,  Immortal  Spirit,  of  sinful 
digen  Menschen  Erlosung,  man's  redemption. 

Die  der  Messias  auf  Erden  in  sei-  Which  on  earth  in  his  human 
ner  Menschheit  vollendet,  form  fulfilled  the  Messiah, 


240 


GERMAN  LITERATURE. 


Und  durcb   die   er  Adams   Ge- 

schlechte  die  Liebe  der  Gott- 

lieit, 
Mit  dem  Blute  des  heiligen  Biin- 

des   von  Xeuem   gescheukt 

hat. 
Also  geschali  des  Ewigen  Wille. 

Vergebens  erhub  sich 
Satan  wider  den  gottliclien  Sohn; 

umsonst  stand  Juda 
Wider  ilm  auf ;  er  that's  und  voU- 

brachte   die  grosse  Versoh.- 

nrrng. 


Suffering,  slain  and  transfigured, 
whence  the  children  of 
Adam 

Once  again  he  hath  lifted  up  to 
the  love  of  the  Godhead. 

Thus  was  done  the  Eternal  Will: 

and  vainly  did  Satan 
Trouble   the  Son   Divine ;    and 

Juda  vainly  opposed  him  : 
As  it  was   willed,  he  did,  and 
completed  the  mighty  Atone- 
ment. 


The  "  Messiah  "  is  only  indirectly  didactic  and  doc- 
trinal. On  account  of  the  multitude  of  characters,  there 
is  a  great  deal  of  action,  and  the  narrative  continually 
breaks  into  dialogue.  It  is  pervaded  throughout  by 
the  tender  humanity  of  the  Christian  religion,  and  has 
many  j^assages  of  genuine  sublimity.  But  it  is  pitched 
altogether  upon  too  lofty  and  ambitious  a  key,  and  the 
mind  of  the  reader,  at  last,  becomes  very  weary  of 
hanging  suspended  between  heaven  and  earth.  I  will 
translate  another  passage,  to  show  how  Klopstock  de- 
scribes the  Indescribable  : 


Gott   sprach   so  und  stand  auf 

vom   ewigen    Throne.     Der 

Thron  klang 
Unter  ihm  hin,  da  er  aufstand. 

Des  Allerheiligsten  Berge 
Zitterten  und  mit  ihnen  der  Altar 

des  gOttlichen  Mittlers, 


God  so  spake,  and  arose  from 
his  Throne  Eternal,  resound- 
ing 

Under  Him,  as  He  arose  :  the 
hills  of  the  Holy  of  Holies 

Trembled,  and  with  them  the 
altar  of  the  Divine  Medi- 
ator. 


KL0P8T0CK,  WIELAND  AND  HERDER. 


241 


Mit  des  Versolinenden  Altar  die 

Wolken  des  heiligen   Dun- 

kels 
Dreimal  flielm  sie  zuriick,    Zum 

viertenmal  bebt  des  Gericht- 

stuhls 
Letzte  Hoh',  es  beben  an  ibm  die 

furclitbaren  Stufen 

Sicbtbar  bervor,  und  der  Ewige 

steigt  von  dem  bimmliscben 

Tbrone. 
So,    wenn     ein    festlicber    Tag 

durcb  die  Himmel  alle  ge- 

feiert  wird, 
Und  mit  allgegenwartigem  Wink 

der  Ewige  winket, 
Steben  dann    auf    Einmal,  auf 

alien  Sonnen  und  Erden, 
Glanzend    von    ibren    goldenen 

Stiiblen,    tausend   bei  taus- 

end, 
Alle  Serapbim  auf ;  dann  klin- 

gen  die  goldenen  Stiible 

Und  der  Harfen  Gebet  und  die 
niedergeworfenen  Kronen. 

Also  ertonte  der  bimmliscbe 
Tbron,  da  Gott  von  ibm  auf- 
stand. 


Yea,  witli  tbe  altar  tbe  clouds  of 
tbe  holy,  mysterious  dark- 
ness 

Tbrice  tbey  withdrew  :  the 
fourth,  the  Seat  of  tbe  Judge 
to  its  summit 

Shook,  and  the  awful  steps  that 
lead  to  the  summit  were 
shaken 

Visibly  :  down  from  his  Throne 
descended  then  the  Eternal. 

As,  when  a  festival  day  is  ke]3t 
through  the  infinite  heavens. 

When  the  beckon  of  God  is  om- 
nipresently  witnessed. 

Then,  at  once,  on  all  the  suns 
and  all  of  the  planets 

Shiningly  from  their  golden 
seats,  by  thousands  of 
thousands 

Rise  the  Seraphim  :  then  f rorn 
their  golden  seats  tbe  ac- 
cordance 

Joins  the  sound  of  the  harps 
and  the  clang  of  the  crowns 
in' their  falling  : — 

So,  when  God  stood  up,  tbe 
Heavenly  Throne  resound- 
ed. 


If  we  cannot  now  find  sucli  passages  as  this  almost 
superhuman  in  their  sublimity,  we  can,  at  least,  with  a 
little  effort  of  the  imagination,  understand  that  a  large 
portion  of  the  German  reading  public  should  have  so 
considered  them,  at  the  time  when  thej  appeared. 
Klopstock's  friends  claim  that  he  was  the  first  to  intro- 
11 


242  GERM  AX  LITERATURE. 

duce  the  classic  hexameter  into  the  language.  He  was 
certainly  the  first  who  did  so  successfully  ;  but  Lessing 
shows  that  both  the  hexameter  and  the  elegiac  mea- 
sure were  used  by  Fischart,  in  the  seventeenth  century. 
Klopstock's  hexameters,  moreover,  are  by  no  means 
above  criticism ;  many  of  his  lines  try  both  the  ear  and 
the  tongue,  while  now  and  then  we  find  one  which  is 
melody  itself.  Take,  for  instance,  this  line  in  the  origiv 
nal : 

Todesworte  noch  stets  und  des  Weltgerichts  Fluch  aussprach. 

Here  the  ear  bumps  along  over  a  corduroy  road  o> 
hard  syllables.     Now  compare  this  line  : 

Deines  scliwebenden  tonenden  Ganges  melodisclies  Rausclieii. 

It  has  a  linked  sweetness  which  would  have  ^olighted 
Milton.  Klopstock  did  not  perceive  the  trr^th,  whiclz 
Goethe  afterward  discovered,  that  the  hpiPviceter,  to  be 
agreeable,  must  put  off  its  Greek  or  La/cin  habits,  an^ 
adapt  itself  to  the  spirit  and  manner  rf  ^he  German  lan- 
guage ;  but  his  labor  was  both  honest  and  fruitful.  Th& 
"Messiah"  was  the  result  of  p  deliberate  purpose  tc 
produce  an  epic  ;  the  subject  W3  might  almost  say,  wa;^ 
mechanically  chosen,  and  we  6an  only  wonder  that  i^ 
work  j^J'odiiced  under  such  conditions  had  so  much 
positive  success  in  its  day. 

His  "  Odes,"  which  also  attained  a  great  popularity, 
were  formed  upon  classical  models.     He  endeavored, 


KLOPSTOCK,  WIELAND  AND  HERDER.  243 

in  tliem,  to  make  eloquence  and  sentiment  supply  the 
place  of  rhyme.  To  me  they  seem  like  a  series  of 
gymnastic  exercises,  whereby  the  muscles  of  the  lan- 
guage became  stronger  and  its  joints  more  flexible, 
although  the  finer  essence  of  poetry  disappears  in  the 
process.  Klopstock  hoped,  and  his  admirers  believed, 
that  he  was  creating  a  classic  German  literature,  by 
adopting  the  forms  which  had  become  classic  in  other 
languages.  All  we  can  now  admit  is  that  he  substi- 
tuted the  influence  of  Greek  literature  for  that  of  the 
French ;  and  this,  at  the  time,  was  no  slight  service. 
His  Odes  were  the  earliest  inspiration  of  Schiller,  and 
he  had  also  a  crowd  of  imitators  who  have  left  no  names 
behind  them. 

None  of  his  dramatic  poems  can  be  called  successful. 
His  "  Herman's  Fight "  was  written,  like  his  "Messiah," 
for  a  deliberate  purjDOse — to  counteract  the  French  in- 
fluence which  was  still  upheld  in  Germany,  not  only 
by  Gottsched  and  his  school,  but  also  by  the  Court  of 
Frederick  the  Great.  It  was  dedicated  to  Joseph  II. 
of  Austria,  who  was  looked  upon  as  the  representative 
of  the  German  spirit.  But  Klopstock,  faithful  to  his 
idea  of  transplanting  classic  forms,  revived  the  old 
Teutonic  gods,  and  endeavored  to  construct  a  new  Ger- 
man Olympus.  The  result  is  very  much  like  a  mas- 
querade. We  see  the  faces  and  beards  of  the  old 
Teutonic  tribes,  their  shields  and  war-clubs,  but  we 
hear  would-be  Grecian  voices  when  they  speak.     His 


244  GEEMAy  LITERATURE. 

attempts  in  tliis  direction,  however,  led  him  to  a  deeper 
study  of  the  growth  and  development  of  the  German 
language,  and  determined,  for  many  years,  the  char- 
acter of  his  literary  activity.  In  1780  he  published  his 
"  Fragments  relating  to  Language  and  Poetry,"  and  in 
1793  his  "  Grammatical  Conversations  " — both  sound 
and  valuable  works.  Yet  in  them,  as  in  his  dramatic 
poems,  the  effect  was  greater  than  its  cause.  Probably 
no  author  of  the  last  century  did  so  much  toward  cre- 
ating a  national  sentiment,  toward  checking  the  im- 
pressibility of  the  race  to  foreign  influences,  arousing 
native  pride  and  stimulating  native  ambition.  This  was 
his  greatest  service,  es23ecially  since  the  German  peo- 
ple saw  in  him  the.  evidence  of  what  he  taught.  Where 
Lessing  cut  his  v\'ay  by  destructive  criticism,  Klopstock 
worked  more  slowly  by  example.  In  force  and  scope 
and  originality  of  intellect  there  can  be  no  comparison 
between  the  two  men :  Kloj^stock  must  always  be  ranked 
among  minds  of  the  second  class  :  but  when  we  esti- 
mate what  they  achieved  during  their  lives,  there  is 
less  difference.  After  Gottsched's  death  there  was  no 
one  to  assail  Klopstock's  fame,  for  all  the  greater  minds 
that  followed  him  aj)preciated  his  work'  and  honored 
him  for  it.  His  prominence  as  an  author  did  not  dimin- 
ish materially  during  his  life,  and  the  true  proportions, 
into  which  his  fame  has  since  then  slowly  settled,  are 
still  large  enough  to  make  him  a  conspicuous  figure  in 
the   literary  history  of  the  age.     Although   not   more 


KLOPSTOCK,  WIELAND  AND  HERDER.  245 

than  ten  of  liis  two  hundred  odes  live  in  the  popular 
memor}^  his  sweet  and  fervent  hymns  are  sung  in  all 
the  Protestant  churches,  and  many  lines  and  phrases 
from  his  poems  have  become  household  words. 

In  Christopher  Martin  Wieland,  we  have  a  personal 
history  almost  as  placid  as  Klopstock's,  yet  an  intellect 
of  very  different  texture,  to  consider.  Through  him  we 
shall  first  make  acquaintance  with  that  company  of  men 
who  have  made  the  name  of  Weimar  almost  as  renowned 
as  that  of  Athens.  I  shall  have  more  difficulty  in  indi- 
cating the  exact  place  which  he  occupies  in  the  lite- 
rary development  of  Germany,  for  the  reason  that  his 
intellectual  characteristics  are  of  a  lighter  and  airier 
quality,  and  are  not  so  readily  transferred  to  another 
language. 

Wieland  was  born  near  Biberach,  in  Wiirtemberg,  in 
1733.  Like  Lessing,  he  was  the  son  of  a  clergyman, 
and  as  a  boy  was  noted  for  his  lively,  precocious  intel- 
lect. He  had  studied  Latin,  Greek  and  Hebrew,  and 
attempted  poetry,  at  the  age  of  twelve.  Three  or  four 
years  later  he  acquired  the  French  and  English  lan- 
guages, and  then  entered  the  University  at  Tubingen  for 
the  purpose  of  studying  law,  to  which  he  devoted  no 
more  attention  than  Lessing  did  to  theology.  His  na- 
ture was  flexible  and  easily  impressed,  and  the  appear- 
ance of  the  first  three  cantos  of  the  "  Messiah  "  impelled 
him  to  attempt  a  similar  work.  He  projected  a  great 
German   epic,  to   be  called   ''ArminiuSy'  very  little  of 


24G  GERMAX  LITERATURE. 

wliicli  Avas  written.  One  of  tlie  first  works  whicli  lie 
published  was  entitled  "  Ten  Moral  Letters."  These 
early  essays  attracted  the  notice  of  Bodmer  and  the 
Zurich  school,  and  he  was  incited  thither  in  1752,  as 
Klopstock  had  been  two  years  before.  He  was  then  a 
youth  of  nineteen,  and  for  several  years  thenceforth  he 
seems  to  have  been  entirely  under  the  influence  of 
Bodmer,  Gessner  and  the  other  chiefs  of  the  Swiss 
literary  clan. 

He  was  unfortunate  in  all  his  ventures  during  this 
period.  He  commenced  an  epic,  of  which  Cyrus  was  the 
hero,  but  the  first  five  books  were  received  so  coldly  by 
the  j)ublic,  that  the  design  was  given  up.  A  tragedy 
called  ''Lady  Jane  Gray  "  met  with  no  better  fate,  un- 
less Lessing's  merciless  review  of  it  can  be  considered  a 
distinction.  He  thereupon  attempted  a  lighter  and 
gayer  style,  choosing  as  his  subject  the  episode  of 
*' Araspes  and  Panthea  "  from  Xenophon,  but  this  work 
also  attracted  very  little  attention.  He  remained  in 
Switzerland  until  1760,  when  he  returned  to  his  native 
place,  and  accepted  a  clerkship  in  the  Chancery.  The 
duties  of  the  office  were  distasteful  to  so  mercurial  a 
nature,  and  he  sought  relief  fi'om  them  in  undertaking 
a  translation  of  Shakespeare,  which  employed  him  for 
four  or  five  years.  This,  I  believe,  was  the  first  com- 
plete publication  of  Shakespeare  in  German,  and  it  ap- 
peared most  opportunely  for  the  development  which  had 
then  commenced.     Although  it  has  since  been  super- 


KLOPSTOCK,  WIELAND  AND  HERDER.  247 

seeled  by  the  more  tliorough  translation  of  Sclilegel 
and  Tieck,  it  was  a  careful  and  conscientious  work,  for 
which  Wieland  deserves  the  gratitude  of  his  country- 
men. 

Wieland  married  in  1765,  and  four  years  later  ac- 
cepted the  appointment  of  Professor  of  Philosophy  at 
the  University  of  Erfurt.  After  the  publication  of  his 
Shakespeare,  he  turned  again  to  authorship,  and  his 
persistence  at  last  brought  success.  With  the  same 
susceptibility  to  external  influences,  his  new  attempts 
were  inspired,  partly  by  the  French  authors  of  the 
time,  Rousseau  among  them,  and  partly  by  his  lyric 
taste.  His  ^'Agathon,''  published  in  1767,  first  made 
him  generally  and  favorably  known.  Its  leading  idea 
is  to  show  in  what  degree  the  external  world  contributes 
to  human  develo23ment,  and  how  far  wisdom  and  virtue 
are  sustained  by  the  forces  of  nature.  Three  or  four 
works,  in  which  love  is  the  sole  theme,  followed  in 
quick  succession;  and,  although  they  were  denounced 
in  many  quarters,  as  being  free  to  the  verge  of  immo- 
rality, they  were  none  the  less  read.  After  his  accept- 
ance of  the  professorship  at  Erfurt  he  probably  found 
it  expedient  to  guard  himself  against  a  recurrence  of  the 
charge,  for  the  character  of  his  works  changed,  and  we 
find  in  them  an  element  of  satire  which  up  to  this  time 
was  not  exhibited.  He  next  published  "i>er  goklene 
Spiegel''  (The  Golden  Mirror),  which  was  inspired  by 
the  liberal  j)olicy  of  Joseph  II.     Wieland's  intellectual 


248  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

nature,  thus  far,  may  best  be  described  by  our  homely 
word  "  flighty."  There  is  little  evidence  of  any  serious 
literary  principle,  any  coherent  purpose,  in  his  works, 
and  he  seems,  in  this  respect,  as  un-German  as  j^ossi- 
ble.  But  there  is  a  sjDortiye  ease  and  grace  in  every- 
thing he  undertakes,  which  is  new  to  the  language.  If 
Lessing  gave  it  precision  and  Klopstock  freedom,  Wie- 
land  certainly  gave  it  lightness.  The  first  half  of 
Wieland's  life  and  literary  activity  was  passed,  as  we 
have  seen,  in  a  restless  series  of  changes ;  his  place 
of  residence,  his  occupation  and  the  character  of  his 
works  changing  every  few  years.  His  wanderings  were 
now  to  end,  and  a  long  season  of  rest  and  stability, 
the  effect  of  which  is  manifest  in  his  later  writings,  was 
granted  to  his  life.  In  1772,  the  Duchess  Amalia,  of 
Saxe-Weimar,  offered  him  the  post  of  tutor  to  the 
young  princes,  her  sons,  with  a  salary  of  one  thou- 
sand thalers  a  year,  which  afterward  was  continued 
as  a  pension  for  life.  The  eldest  of  these  princes 
was  Karl  August,  the  immortal  patron  of  literature, 
who  was  then  fifteen  years  old.  The  Duchess  Amalia 
had  already  assembled  around  her  in  Weimar  a  supe- 
rior literary  circle,  including  Knebel,  Musaeus  and  Ein- 
siedeL  Three  years  later,  when  Karl  August  assumed 
the  ducal  government,  Goethe,  then  in  his  twenty-sixth 
year,  was  called  to  Weimar.  In  the  meantime,  how- 
ever, Wieland  had  published  a  lyrical  drama,  "Alces- 
tisy'   which   was   well   received   by    everybody   except 


KLOPSTOCK,  WIELAND  AND  HERDER.  249 

Goetlie,  wlio  satirized  it  in  a  dialogue  entitled :  "  Gods, 
Heroes  and  Wieland."  One  of  Wieland's  admirers 
retorted  by  publishing  a  farce,  called  "Men,  Beasts 
and  Goethe."  Wieland  seems  to  have  been  neither 
vain  nor  sensitive  to  attack.  He  treated  the  matter 
good-humoredly,  afterward  acknowledged  the  justice 
of  Goethe's  satire,  and  became  at  once  his  personal 
friend. 

Wieland's  intellect  became  broader  and  clearer 
through  his  intercourse  with  the  Weimar  circle.  His 
works,  thenceforth,  exhibit  greater  finish  and  consist- 
ence ;  yet  he  never  entirely  emancipated  himself  from 
the  influence  of  the  French  school,  never  adopted  the 
lofty  standard  of  excellence  which  Schiller  and  Goethe, 
and  even  Herder,  set  for  themselves.  The  deficiency 
was  inherent  in  his  nature  :  his  temperament  was  too 
gay  and  cheerful,  too  dependent  on  moods  and  sensa- 
tions, for  the  earnest  work  of  his  fellow  authors.  He 
did  good  service,  however,  by  establishing,  soon  after 
his  arrival  in  Weimar,  a  monthly  literary  periodical, 
called  "  Der  deutscJie  Mercury'  which  he  thenceforth 
edited  for  more  than  thirty  years,  and  which  was  the 
vehicle  through  which  the  most  prominent  authors  be- 
came known  to  a  Avider  circle  of  readers.  In  1780  he 
published  his  romantic  epic  of  "  Oheron,''  the  most 
permanently  popular  of  all  his  works.  It  is  an  admi- 
rable specimen  of  what  Goethe  calls  the  naive  in  litera- 
ture— the  free,  graceful  play  of  the  imagination.  lu- 
ll* 


250  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

deed,  as  a  specimen  of  poetic  story-telling,  it  lias  not 
often  been  excelled  in  any  language.  We  have,  at  pres- 
ent, such  a  story-teller  in  England — Mr.  William  Mor- 
ris— the  graces  of  whose  metrical  narratives  are  now 
delighting  us  ;  but  their  tone,  even  when  he  chooses  a 
bright  Greek  subject,  is  grave  almost  to  sadness.  They 
are  chanted  in  the  minor  key,  and  a  sky  of  gray  cloud, 
or,  w^hen  brightest,  veiled  by  a  hazy  mist,  hangs  over 
all  the  landscapes  of  his  verse.  Change  this  tone  and 
atmosphere  :  let  them  be  clear,  fi'esh  and  joyous  :  add 
sunshine,  and  pleasant  airs,  and  the  multitudinous  dance 
of  the  waves,  and  you  have  the  character  of  Wieland's 
poetry.  His  "  Oheron''  is  as  charming  now  as  when  it 
was  first  written.  It  has  all  the  grace  and  the  melody 
and  the  easy  movement  of  Ariosto.  The  severe  critic 
may  say  that  the  poem  teaches  nothing ;  that  many  of 
the  incidents  are  simply  grotesque  ;  that  the  plot  is  awk- 
wardly constructed ;  that  the  hero  exhibits  no  real  he- 
roism, and  the  fairy  king  and  queen  are  borrowed  from 
Shakespeare  :  the  reader  will  always  answer — "  All  this 
may  be  true,  but  the  poem  is  delightful."  The  secret  of 
"  Oheron  "  seems  to  me,  that  Wieland  has  combined  the 
joyousness  and  the  freedom  of  the  Greek  nature,  with  the 
form  and  the  manner  of  the  romantic  school  in  literature. 
I  have  re-read  it  carefully  (for  the  third  or  fourth  time) 
for  the  purpose  of  selecting  some  passages  which  might 
best  illustrate  its  character ;  but  I  find  it  difficult  to 
make  any  choice,  where  the  key-note  of  the  poem  is  so 


KL0P8T0GK,   WIELAKD  AND  HERDEB. 


251 


evenly  sustained  throughout.  I  will  therefore  translate 
a  few  of  the  opening  stanzas,  which  will  serve  my  pur- 
pose as  well  as  any  others.  You  will  notice  that  while 
these  stanzas  are  each  of  eight  lines,  the  length  and  the 
metrical  character  of  the  lines,  and  the  order  of  rhyme, 
are  varied  according  to  the  author's  will : 


Noch    einmal    sattelt    mir    den 

Hippogryplieu,  ihr  Musen, 
Zum  Ritt   ins  alte  romautische 

Land  ! 
Wie   lieblicli   um    meinen    ent- 

fesselten  Buseu 
Der    holde    Walinsinn     spielt  ! 

Wer  sclilang  das  magische 

Band 
Um  meine  Stirne  ?     Wer  treibt 

von  meinen  Angen  den  Ne- 

bel, 
Der  auf  der  Vorwelt  Wundern 

liegt  ? 
Ich   seh',    in  bnntem   Gewilhl, 

bald  siegend,  bald  besiegt, 
Des  Ritters  gutes  Scliwert,  der 

Heiden  blinkende  Sabel. 


Te  Muses,  come  saddle  me  tlie 
Hyppogryff  again, 

For  a  ride  in  the  old,  tbe  ro- 
mantic land  ! 

How  sweetly  now,  around  my 
breast  and  brain, 

Tbe  fair  illusion  plays  !  Who 
bound  that  magic  band 

About  my  brow  ?  Who  from 
mine  eyelids  blew  the  haze, 

Hiding  the  wonders  of  old  days  ? 

I  see,  now  conquered,  now  o'er- 
come,  in  endless  labor, 

The  faithful  sword  of  the 
knight,  the  Paynim's  sliin- 
ing  sabre  ! 


Vergebens    knirscht    des   alten 

Sultans   Zorn, 
Vergebens  drjiut  ein  "Wald  von 

starren  Lanzen  ; 
Es  tcint  im  lieblichen  Ton  das 

elfenbeinerne  Horn, 
Urid,    wie    ein    Wirbel,    egreift 

sie   alle  die  Wuth   zu  tan- 

zen. 


In    vain    the    ancient    Sultan's 

wrath  and  scorn. 
Threatens   in  vain   a  grove   of 

leveled  lances  ; 
The  exquisite  notes  are  heard  of 

the  ivory  horn, 
And  the  crowd    is    seized    and 

whirled       in       tumultuous 

dances  1 


252  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

Sie  drelin  im  Kreise   sich  urn.  They  turn  and  circle  till  breath 

bis   Sinn    und  Athem   ent-  and  sense  are  lost. 

gelit. 

Triumph,  Ilerr  Ritter,  Triumph!  Triumph,  Sir  Knight,  is  thine! 

Gewonnen  ist  die  Schone.  Thou  hast  won  the  beauty  : 

Was    siiumt     ihr  ?    Fort  I    der  Why  delay  ?    Thy  flag  in    the 

Wimpel  weht :  breeze  is  tossed  ; 

Nach   Rom,    dass    euern    Bund  Away  to  Rome,  where  the  Holy 

der  heil'ge  Vater  krone  I  Father  claims  thy  duty  l 

This  liglit  and  rapid  movement  characterizes  the  whole 
poem,  which  seems  to  have  been  written  only  in  holi- 
days of  the  mind.  The  reading  of  it,  therefore,  is  not 
a  task,  but  a  pure  recreation.  Wieland,  in  this  respect, 
was  an  unconscious  and  unintentional  reformer.  Goethe, 
I  have  already  stated,  was  led  by  Lessing  to  seek  for 
the  true  principles  of  literary  art ;  but  it  is  equally  cer- 
tain that  he  learned  of  Wieland  to  relieve  and  lighten 
the  gravity  of  his  style — to  add  grace  to  proportion, 
and  give  a  playful  character  to  earnest  thought. 

Wieland  must  be  considered  as  one  of  the  chief 
founders  of  the  romantic  school.  The  "  Storm  and 
Stress"  period,  which  was  simply  a  fermentation  of 
the  conflicting  elements — a  struggle  by  means  of  which 
the  new  era  of  literature  grew  into  existence — com- 
menced about  the  year  1770,  and  continued  for  twenty 
years.  During  its  existence  the  Eomantic  School  was 
developed,  separating  itself  from  the  classic  school,  by 
its  freedom  of  form,  its  unrestrained  sentiment,  and  its 
seeking  after  startling  effects.  It  was  a  natural  retalia- 
tion, that  France,  forty  years  later,  should  have  bor- 


KLOPSTOCK,   WIELAND   AND  HERDER.  253 

rowed  this  scliool  from  Germany.  Wielancl  was  not  a 
partisan  in  the  struggle  ;  neither  was  he  drawn  into  it, 
and  forced  to  work  his  way  out  again,  as  were  Goethe 
and  Schiller.  He  belonged  to  the  Eomantic  school  by 
his  nature,  and  to  the  classic  school  by  his  culture, 
but  the  former  gave  the  distinguishing  character  to  his 
works. 

After  the  completion  of  "  Oberon,'"  he  undertook  the 
translation  of  Horace  and  Lucian,  which  was  followed 
by  the  publication  of  the  ''Attische  3Iuseum  " — a  collec- 
tion of  the  principal  Greek  classics,  translated  by  differ- 
ent hands.  Until  Schiller  started  his  magazine,  called 
''Die  Horen  "  (The  Hours),  Wieland's  "  Deutscher  Mercur " 
was  the  first  literary  periodical  in  Germany.  His  later 
original  works  are  few  and  unimportant,  and  had  little 
influence  on  the  thought  of  the  time.  He  lived  to  see 
the  battle  of  Jena,  to  be  presented  by  Napoleon  with 
the  Cross  of  the  Legion  of  Honor,  in  1808,  and  died, 
eighty  years  old,  in  the  year  of  German  Liberation, 
1813. 

In  this  brief  sketch  of  Wieland,  I  have  scarcely  men- 
tioned more  than  half  of  his  works,  because  it  is  not 
necessary  for  the  purpose  of  indicating  his  place  as 
an  author.  Perhaps  ten  per  cent,  of  the  thirty-six 
volumes  which  he  left  behind  him,  are  now  read.  The 
winnowing-mill  of  Time  makes  sad  havoc  with  works 
considered  immortal  in  their  day.  A  great  deal  of 
Wieland's  productiveness  has  been  blown  away  as  chaff, 


254:  GEEMAN  LITERATURE. 

but  enougli  sound  grain  remains  to  account  for  liis  in- 
fluence, and  to  justify  our  honorable  recognition  of  his 
genius.  If  he  did  not  follow  truth  with  the  unselfish 
deyotion  of  Lessing — if  he  was  not  animated  by  a  lofty 
patriotic  purpose,  like  Ivlopstock — we  nevertheless  do 
not  feel  inclined  to  judge  him  too  rigidly.  His  grace, 
his  humor,  his  delicate  irony  and  refined  though  rather 
shallow  appreciation  of  the  element  of  beauty,  disarm 
us  in  advance.  We  cannot  escape  a  hearty  friendly 
feeling  for  the  man  who  was  always  so  cheerful  and 
amiable,  and  whose  works,  light  as  they  may  seem  in 
comparison,  form  a  counterjDoise  for  so  many  of  the 
"  heavy  weights  "  in  German  Literature.  Falk  relates 
that  on  the  day  after  Wieland's  burial,  Goethe  spoke 
of  him  in  these  terms :  "  He  jDossessed  an  incomparable 
nature  :  in  him  all  was  fluency,  spirit  and  taste  !  It  is 
a  cheerful  plain,  where  there  is  nothing  to  stumble 
over,  threaded  by  the  stream  of  a  comical  wit,  which 
winds  capriciously  in  all  directions,  and  sometimes 
even  turns  against  its  author.  There  is  not  the  slight- 
est trace  in  him  of  that  deliberate,  laborious  technical 
quality,  which  sometimes  spoils  for  us  the  best  ideas 
and  feelings,  by  making  their  expression  seem  artificial. 
This  natural  ease  and  freedom  is  the  reason  why  I 
always  prefer  to  read  Shakespeare  in  Wieland's  transla- 
tion. He  handled  rhyme  as  a  master.  I  believe,  if 
one  had  poured  upon  his  desk  a  composing-case  full  of 
words,  he  would  have  arranged  them,  in  a  little  while, 


ELOP  STOCK,  W IE  LAND  AND  HERDER.  255 

into  a  charming  paem."  Although,  this  is  the  tribute 
of  a  friend  who  had  been  for  forty  years  intimate  with 
Wiehind,  and  was  given  during  the  tender  sorrow  which 
his  loss  called  forth,  it  is  not  exaggerated  praise. 

Just  such  an  intellectual  temperament  as  Wieland 
possessed  was  needed  in  his  time.  The  language  as 
well  as  the  literature  was  in  the  process  of  develop- 
ment :  there  were  enough  of  thoughtful  and  earnest 
minds  engaged  in  the  work,  and  they  would  have  fallen 
too  exclusively  into  the  serious,  brooding  habit  of  the 
race,  had  they  not  been  interrupted  by  Wieland's  play- 
ful fancy  and  his  delicate  satire.  Our  English  lan- 
guage found  all  these  qualities  combined  in  the  one 
man,  Shakespeare,  but  other  countries  have  not  been  so 
fortunate.  It  required  three  men — Lessing,  Wieland 
and  Goethe — to  perform  a  similar  service  for  the  Ger- 
man language.  In  this  respect,  the  sj)ortive  element  in 
Wieland' s  mind  was  as  valuable  as  genius.  It  is  cer- 
tainly rarer.  Much  of  our  modern  literature  lacks  the 
same  quality.  It  betrays  .the  grave  labored  purpose  of 
the  author,  as  if  expression  were  a  stern  duty,  instead 
of  seeming,  as  it  should  seem,  free,  inevitable  and  joy- 
ous. Goethe  says  that  Wieland  was  the  only  member 
of  the  Weimar  circle  who  could  publish  his  works  in 
the  monthly  "  Mercury  "  by  instalments,  as  they  were 
written,  without  being  at  all  affected  by  the  miscon- 
ception of  the  public  or  the  hostile  criticism  of  his 
rivals.     It  is  pleasant  to  contemplate  the  activity  of  so 


256  GERMAN  LITEUATURE. 

serene  and  cheerful  a  mind.  He  never  liad  a  following 
of  enthusiastic  admirers,  like  Klopstock  or  Schiller, 
but  the  public  regarded  him  always  with  a  kindly 
good-will.  It  was  for  a  time  fashionable,  in  Germany, 
to  depreciate  his  literary  achievements.  He  has  been 
accused  of  being  governed  by  French  influences,  be- 
cause of  his  light  and  A^olatile  nature  ;  but  the  influ- 
ence, so  far  as  it  existed,  soon  wore  off,  and  left  only 
the  natural  resemblance,  which  was  no  fault.  On  the 
contrary,  it  was  his  good  fortune  and  that  of  his  con- 
temporaries. 

I  do  not  mention  Herder  last  because  I  consider  him 
the  least  important  of  the  three,  but  simj)ly  because  he 
came  last  in  the  order  of  birth.  Although  a  good  part 
of  the  fight  had  been  fought,  by  the  time  he  was  old 
enough  to  engage  in  it,  he  belongs  also  to  the  pioneers 
and  builders.  It  is  remarkable  that,  in  this  review  of 
the  great  German  authors  of  the  last  century,  each 
retains,  from  first  to  last,  his  own  clearly-marked  indi- 
viduality. Each  preserves  his  own  independent  activity^ 
while  following  a  similar  aim,  even  after  years  of  the 
closest  personal  intercourse.  There  was  a  wide  field 
and  much  work  before  them,  and  Nature  seems  so  to 
have  ordered  their  minds,  that  each  found  his  fitting 
department  of  labor,  and  all,  together,  carried  forward 
a  broad  front  of  development. 

Johann  Gottfried  Herder  was  born  in  1744,  in  a  village 
in  Eastern  Prussia,  where  his  father  was  teacher  and 


KL0P8T0CK,  WIELAND  AND  HERDER.  257 

Cantor  in  the  cliurcli.  Allowed  to  read  notliing  but  the 
Bible  and  the  hymn-book  at  home,  his  craving  for  knowl- 
edge attracted  the  attention  of  a  neighboring  clergyman, 
who  gave  him  instruction  in  Latin  and  Greek.  At  the 
age  of  eighteen,  a  Russian  physician,  who  took  a  great 
interest  in  the  eager,  intelligent,  friendless  boy,  proposed 
to  have  him  educated  as  a  surgeon,  in  Konigsberg  and 
St.  Petersburg.  He  fainted  on  beholding  the  first  dis- 
section, and  the  plan  was  given  up ;  but  he  remained  in 
Konigsberg,  subsisting  literally  on  charity,  and  study- 
ing at  the  University.  The  philosopher  Kant  allowed 
him  to  attend  his  lectures  without  paying  the  usual  fee. 
The  study  of  theology  specially  attracted  him,  but  no 
branch  of  knowledge  was  neglected.  After  struggling 
along,  under  the  most  discouraging  circumstances,  for 
two  years,  he  accepted  a  situation  as  teacher  in  Riga, 
and  began  to  preach  as  soon  as  he  had  been  properly 
ordained  to  the  office.  His  popularity  became  so  great, 
both  as  a  teacher  and  as  an  eloquent,  earnest  preacher, 
that  in  the  course  of  four  or  five  years  his  friends  in  Riga 
determined  to  build  a  large  church,  and  have  him  in- 
stalled as  pastor.  AX  the  same  time  he  was  invited  to 
become  the  Director  of  the  German  school  in  St.  Peters- 
burg. He  declined  both  these  offers,  and  left  Riga  in 
1769,  intending  to  make  a  journey  through  Europe.  At 
Strassburg,  an  affection  of  the  eyes  obliged  him  to  give 
up  the  plan,  and  to  remain  in  that  city  for  surgical  treat- 
ment.     Here  he  became  acquainted  with  a  youth  of 


258  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

tTrenty,  named  Goetlie,  and  for  some  montlis  the  two 
were  inseparable  companions.  Herder,  then  twenty-five 
years  old,  had  already  published  two  works — "Frag= 
ments  concerning  Recent  German  Literature,"  and  "For- 
ests of  Criticism,"  wherein  he  had  planted  himself  on 
the  side  of  Winckelmann  and  Lessing,  taking  a  strong 
position  of  antagonism  to  the  pedantry  and  superficial 
taste  which  those  authors  assailed.  Goethe,  who,  dur- 
ing his  residence  in  Strassbnrg,  wrote  his  play  of  ''Die 
Mitschuldigen  "  (The  Accomplices)  and  was  brooding  over 
the  plan  of  "  G<'dz  von  BerlicMngen,''  profited  greatly  by 
his  intercourse  with  Herder,  and  his  friendship  became 
one  of  the  influences  which  determined  Herder's  later 
life. 

While  at  Strassburg,  Herder  received  an  invitation  to 
become  Court-Preacher  at  Biickeburg,  a  town  in  North- 
ern Germany,  the  capital  of  the  little  principality  of 
Schaumburg-Lippe.  He  accepted  the  call,  and  remained 
at  Biickeburg,  in  that  capacity,  for  five  years,  during 
which  time  his  reputation  as  a  theologian  became  so 
generally  established,  that  he  was  offered  the  Professor- 
ship of  Theology  at  Gottingen.  He  hesitated  to  accept 
the  position,  because,  by  order  of  the  Elector  of  Hanover, 
it  was  burdened  with  certain  conditions  which  were  not 
agreeable.  After  the  negotiations  had  continued  for 
some  months,  a  day  was  fixed  for  Herder's  decision,  and 
on  that  very  day  he  received  an  offer  of  the  place  of 
Court-Preacher  and  member  of  the  Clerical  Consistory 


KLOPSTOCK,  WIELAND  AND  HERDER,  259 

at  Weimar.  He  delayed  no  longer,  but  followed  the  in- 
stinct which  led  so  many  tempest-tost  brains  into  that 
quiet  and  secure  harbor  of  the  German  Muses.  By  the 
end  of  the  year  1776,  Wieland,  Herder  and  Goethe  were 
citizens  of  Weimar.  Here  the  incidents  of  Herder's  life, 
like  those  of  Wieland's,  cease  to  interest  us,  and  we  are 
occupied  only  with  his  literary  development. 

In  1778  he  published  his  "  Volkslieder' :  the  English 
title,  which  would  best  express  the  character  of  the  work, 
is  "Poetry  of  the  Eaces."  It  is  a  careful  selection  from 
the  popular  songs  and  ballads  of  nearly  all  the  languages 
of  Europe,  including  the  Lithuanian,  Livonian,  Servian, 
Danish,  English  and  Modern  Greek.  He  makes  good 
use  of  Percy's  "  Keliques  "  and  the  lyrics  of  the  Eliza- 
bethan dramatists,  and  even  translates  passages  of 
Ossian  into  rhyme.  These  translations,  although  not 
always  very  literal,  are  thoroughly  poetic,  and  may  be 
read  with  satisfaction.  His  object  seems  to  have  been, 
to  direct  the  attention  of  the  German  public  to  the 
natural  poetic  elements  which  exist  in  the  early  civiliza- 
tion of  all  races,  and  thereby  to  counteract  the  tendency 
toward  schools  or  fashions  in  poetry.  He  sought  to 
impress  the  catholicity  of  his  own  taste  upon  the  popu- 
lar mind,  and  was  certainly  successful  in  diverting  much 
of  the  thought  of  his  day  out  of  the  narrow  channels 
in  which  it  had  been  accustomed  to  move.  In  1782  he 
published  his  "Spirit  of  Hebrew  Poetry,"  a  work  which 
has  been  translated  and  extensively  read  in  English. 


260  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

It  is  an  exposition  of  his  views  in  regard  to  the  primitive 
poetry  of  the  race,  in  its  connection  Avith  religion.  Its 
indirect  tendencj^,  as  well  as  that  of  his  strictly  theo- 
logical w^ritings,  was  to  inculcate  a  broader,  a  more  in- 
telligent— one  might  almost  say,  a  more  human — reli- 
gious sentiment.  He  took  the  same  ground  as  Lessing, 
concerning  the  superiority  of  the  sjDirit  to  the  letter, 
but,  as  a  clergyman,  he  was  sj)ared  the  bitter  hostility 
which  the  layman  had  provoked.  Perhaps,  also,  the 
warmth,  the  eloquence  and  the  enthusiasm  which  per- 
vaded all  his  writings  gave  his  ideas  an  easier  accept- 
ance than  they  would  have  found,  if  presented  with  the 
intellectual  bareness  and  keenness  of  Lessing's  style. 

Passing  over  Herder's  essays  and  critical  papers,  I 
will  only  mention  two  other  of  his  more  important  works 
— the  metrical  romance  of  ''Der  Cidr  the  materials  of 
which  he  collected  from  the  old  Sj^anish  legends  and 
ballads,  and  his  "Ideas  toward  a  Philosophy  of  Human 
History,"  which  is  generally  considered  to  be  his  greatest 
work.  "  The  Cid  "  is  written  in  unrhymed  Trochaics — 
a  measure  which  was  first  employed  in  English  by  Long- 
fellow in  his  "Hiawatha."  Although  it  is  considered  a 
classic  poem  in  German,  and  is  still  printed  in  luxurious 
editions,  it  is  only  enjoyed  by  the  more  cultivated  class 
of  readers.  It  has  somethinsj  of  the  mechanical  char- 
acter  of  many  of  his  Odes.  He  was  less  a  poet,  in  fact, 
than  a  man  of  sensitive  poetic  taste.  He  had  a  large, 
warm,  receptive  nature,  and  his  insjDiration  came  from 


ELOPSTOCK,  WIELAND  AND  HERDER.  261 

the  feelings  ratlier  tlian  from  the  imagination.  His 
"Ideas  of  the  Philosoi^hy  of  History  "  are  the  fragments 
of  a  larger  design.  They  anticipate  many  views  which 
have  only  been  taken  up  and  practically  developed  in 
the  literature  of  our  day.  He  considers  man  as  an 
entity,  whose  different  modes  of  development  in  the 
earlier  races  must  be  referred  to  the  operation  of  the 
same  universal  laws.  He  traces  the  upward  tendency, 
the  preparation  for  a  higher  spiritual  life,  through  all 
the  varied  forms  of  civilization,  and  infers  the  existence 
of  a  sublime  progressive  destiny,  of  which  all  our  past 
history  is  a  part. 

During  the  later  years  of  his  life,  Herder  became 
sensitive  and  irritable,  although  he  still  retained  his 
wonderful  magnetic  power  over  other  men.  His  per- 
formance of  his  official  duties  was  beneficently  felt 
throughout  the  Duchy.  His  authority  in  the  Church, 
his  supervision  of  the  schools,  his  control  of  the  govern- 
ment-charities, were  all  characterized  by  a  wise,  liberal 
and  thoroughly  humane  spirit.  In  1801  he  was  ap- 
pointed President  of  the  Consistory,  the  highest  office 
belonging  to  his  profession,  and  was  ennobled  by  the 
Elector  of  Bavaria.  He  lived  but  two  years  longer  to 
enjoy  these  honors,  dying  in  1803,  in  his  sixtieth  year. 
The  Duke,  Karl  August,  ordered  the  words  to  be  en- 
graved upon  his  tomb — "  Light,  Love,  Life." 

The  great  influence  which  Herder  exercised  during 
his  life  cannot  be  doubted  ;  yet,  in   looking  over  his 


262  GERMAN  LITERArURE. 

works  at  the  present  day,  it  is  easy  to  miss  the  secret  of 
that  influence.  I  confess  that,  notwithstanclincj  the  evi- 
dence  of  an  earnest,  brooding  mind,  which  I  find  every- 
where— notwithstanding  the  variety  and  beauty  of  the 
scattered  thoughts — Herder's  works  impress  me  like  £, 
collection  of  great,  irregular  fragments.  He  has  less  of 
positive  style  than  any  of  his  contemj)oraries.  His 
view^s  seem  to  lack  an  ordered  connection,  and  this  gives 
an  air  of  uncertainty  to  the  operations  of  his  mind. 
Everything  he  does  resembles  a  figure  which  the  sculp- 
tor has  not  wholly  hewn  from  the  marble.  Here  and 
there  an  outline  may  be  clearly  cut,  the  form  ar.d  ex- 
pression may  be  everywhere  indicated,  but  we  aro  never- 
theless tantalized  by  the  unchiseled  stone  hiding  as 
much  as  it  reveals.  His  design  is  evidently  greater  than 
his  power  of  execution — like  the  face  of  the  Dawn,  which 
baffled  Michael  Ansjelo. 

But  this  very  circumstance,  if  I  rightly  interpret  it, 
gives  a  hint  of  his  true  power — and  it  is  an  agency  which 
we  have  not  yet  considered.  I  mean  the  power  of  sug^ 
gestiventss.  There  is  something  stimulating  and  pro- 
vocative in  ideas  which  fall  short  of  their  full  and  cleScX 
expression.  The  breadth  of  Herder's  views,  aided  as 
they  were  by  his  remarkable  eloquence,  made  them 
attractive  at  a  time  when  the  mind  of  Germany  was 
throbbing  with  its  highest  vitality,  and  they  must  have 
opened  innumerable  side-paths  to  others.  The  place 
which  he  attempted  to  fill  was  so  large,  that  there  was 


KL0P8T0CK,  WIELAND  AND  HEBDER.  263 

necessarily  more  variety  tlian  thoroughness  in  his  work. 
But  all  that  he  did  helped  to  widen  the  intellectual 
horizon :  his  spirit  was  never  otherwise  than  liberal, 
tolerant  and  pervaded  with  the  noblest  sympathies. 
Neither  his  philological  learning,  nor  his  philosophy, 
would  now  be  considered  remarkable,  but,  as  one  of  his 
critics  truly  says,  they  were  exactly  adequate  to  his 
needs  and  the  needs  of  his  time. 

I  think,  therefore,  that  we  shall  be  correct  in  desig- 
nating Herder  as  a  procre^dive,  rather  than  a  creative 
power  in  German  literature — that  is,  that  his  suggestive, 
awakening  and  stimulating  influence  on  other  minds 
was  his  chief  merit.  The  value  of  his  writings  is  thus 
not  affected  by  their  want  of  artistic  completeness, — 
nor  is  it  merely  a  temporary  value.  His  ideas  still  re- 
tain their  fructifying  character,  because  the  aspiration 
which  underlies  them  is  always  lofty  and  sincere. 

Goethe,  speaking  to  Eckermann,  in  the  year  1824, 
thus  expressed  himself  concerning  Klopstock  and  Her- 
der :  "  Had  it  not  been  for  these  powerful  forerunners, 
our  literature  could  not  have  become  what  it  now  is. 
VVhen  they  came,  they  were  far  in  advance  of  tlieir  time, 
and  they  equally  drew  it  after  them ;  but  now  the  age 
has  distanced  them,  and  notwithstanding  they  were 
once  so  necessary  and  important,  the}^  have  ceased  to 
be  vital  forces.  A  young  man  who  should  now-a-days 
draw  his  culture  from  Klopstock  and  Herder,  would  fall 
to  the  rear." 


264  QEBMAN  LITERATURE. 

Goethe  ascribed  tlie  unusual  culture  of  tlie  middle 
classes,  which  had  been  developed  througout  Germany 
during  the  previous  fifty  years,  more  to  Wieland  and 
Herder,  than  to  Lessing.  "  Lessing,"  he  said,  "  was 
the  highest  intelligence,  and  only  an  equal  intelligence 
could  thoroughly  be  taught  by  him.  He  was  dangerous 
to  half-capacities.  To  Wieland,"  he  added,  "  all  the 
higher  cultivation  of  Germany  owes  its  style.  This 
class  learned  a  great  deal  from  him,  not  the  least  of 
which  was  the  faculty  of  appropriate  expression." 

In  these  remarks,  Goethe  refers  principally  to  Les- 
sing's  critical  works,  and  he  also  ignores  both  his  own 
and  Schiller's  influence  on  the  national  culture.  Never- 
theless, the  distinction  which  he  draws  is  at  bottom 
correct.  Taking  Lessing,  Klopstock,  Wieland  and  Her- 
der, as  the  representative  forerunners  and  reformers, 
who  first  created  the  splendid  age  of  literature  which 
they  then  adorned,  we  may  thus  apportion  their  sep- 
arate shares  in  the  work.  Lessing,  unquestionably 
first,  both  in  intellect  and  character,  was  a  strong  inde- 
pendent power,  operating  chiefly  on  the  best  thinkers 
and  writers  of  his  day.  Klopstock,  by  his  use  of  the 
religious  element,  won  the  people  to  his  side,  employed 
his  influence  to  implant  among  them  a  lofty  national 
sentiment,  and  gave  eloquence,  form  and  expression  to 
the  language.  Wieland,  the  literary  Epicurean,  giving 
himself  up  to  the  shifting  play  of  his  moods  and  sensa- 
tions,   imj)arted   lightness,  grace    and  elegance  to  the 


KL0P8T0CK,  WIELAND  AND  HERDEH.  265 

language,  adding  sparkle  to  strength  and  melody  to 
correctness  of  form.  Herder,  finally,  broke  down  the 
narrower  limits  of  tlionglit,  led  the  aspirations  of  men 
back  to  their  primitive  sources,  placed  before  them  the 
universal  and  permanent  in  literature,  rather  than  the 
national  and  temporary,  and  deepened  and  widened 
in  every  way  the  general  culture,  through  the  fruitful 
suggestiveness  of  his  ideas.  The  more  we  contemplate 
the  lives  and  the  labors  of  these  four  authors,  the  more 
clearly  we  feel  the  necessity  of  each.  The  development 
of  the  German  language  had  been  long  delayed,  but 
these  men,  working  simultaneously,  raised  it  rapidly  to 
an  equal  power  and  dignity  among  the  other  modern 
tongues  of  Europe. 

We  now  turn  from  the  period  of  struggle  to  that  of 
creative  repose.  The  battle  has  been  fought :  the 
ground  has  been  won:  we  shall  henceforth  breathe  a 
serener  air,  and  feel  the  presence  of  a  purer  and  grander 
inspiration. 
12 


IX. 

SCHILLER. 

Taking  tlie  German  authors  in  the  order  of  their  pro* 
gressive  development,  we  are  next  led  to  Schiller,  who, 
although  he  was  born  ten  years  later  than  Goethe,  died 
twenty-seven  years  earlier.  His  life  is  thus  included 
within  that  of  Goethe,  but  only  as  the  orbit  of  Venus  is 
included  within  that  of  the  Earth  :  the  courses  may  be 
nearly  parallel,  but  are  never  identical. 

In  Schiller's  case,  I  have  the  advantage  of  dealing 
with  material,  much  of  which  is  tolerably  familiar  to 
English  readers.  The  biograj)hy  and  essays  of  Carlyle, 
and  the  translations  of  Coleridge,  Bulwer,  Bowring 
and  others,  have  gradually  created  an  impression,  in 
England  and  America,  of  Schiller's  character  and  genius 
— an  im23ression  which  is  just  in  outline,  if  somewhat 
vague  in  certain  respects.  The  more  delicate  lights  and 
shades,  which  are  necessary  to  complete  the  picture, 
can  be  given  only  by  the  intimate  and  sympathetic  study 
which  the  poet  inspires  in  those  who  have  made  his 
acquaintance.  Like  Burns  and  Byron,  he  creates  a  per- 
sonal interest  in  the  reader,  in  the  light  of  which  his 
works   are   almost   inevitably  viewed.     An  indefinable 

266 


SCHILLER.  267 

magnetism  clings  to  liis  name,  and  accompanies  it  all 
over  the  world.     In  vain  Eicliter  speaks  of  "  tlie  stony 
Schiller,  from  whom  strangers  spring  back,  as  from  a 
precipice"— in  vain  Mr.  Crabb  Eobinson  describes  him 
as  unsocial,  and  with  a  wild  expression  of  face-few 
poets  have  ever  excited  more  enthusiasm,  sympathy, 
and  love  in  the  human  race,  than  Friedrich  Schiller. 
Even  when  we  know  his   life,  and  have  analyzed  his 
works,  the  problem  is  not  entirely  solved.     Mankind 
seems  sometimes  to  give  way,  like  an  individual,  to  an 
impulse  of  unreasoning  affection,  and  the  fortunate  poet 
upon  whom  it  falls  is  sure  of  a  beautiful  immortality. 

Schiller  was  born  on  the  10th  of  November,  1759,  in 
the  little  town  of  Marbach,  in  Wiirtemberg.     His  father 
was  a  military  surgeon,  who  had  distinguished  himself 
in  campaigns  in  the  Netherlands  and  Bohemia,  where  he 
also  served  as  an  officer,  and  attained  the  rank  of  Cap- 
tain.    He  was  an  instance,  very  rare  in  those  days,  of 
a  man  who  tried,  in  middle  age,  to  make  up  for  the  defi- 
ciencies of  his  early  education,  and  whatever  capacity 
Schiller  may  have  received  by  inheritance  came  from 
him,  and  not  from  the  mother.     Noted,  as  a  child,  for 
his  spiritual  and  imaginative  nature,  Schiller's   early 
ambition  was  to  become  a  clergyman;  but  the  Duke 
Karl  of  Wiirtemberg  insisted,  against  the  wish  of  the 
boy's  parents,  on  having  him  educated  in  a  new  school 
which  he  had  just  founded  in  Stuttgart. 

At  the  age  of  fourteen  Schiller  entered  this  school, 


268  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

wliicli  u^as  conducted  according  to  tlie  strictest  military 
ideas.  The  jDuj^ils  were  considered  as  so  many  macliines, 
to  be  meclianically  developed :  not  the  slightest  regard 
was  paid  to  natural  differences  of  capacity :  their  studies, 
their  performances,  and  even  their  recreation,  were  regu- 
lated by  an  inflexible  system.  Unable  to  escape  his 
fate,  Schiller  at  first  selected  jurisj^rudence,  but  soon 
changed  it  for  medicine,  in  which  branch  he  was  gradu- 
ated, in  his  twenty-first  year.  There  is  no  doubt  that 
the  severe  and  soulless  discipline  to  which  he  was  sub- 
jected for  seven  years  was  one  cause  of  the  fierce,  reck- 
less, rebellious  spirit  which  pervades  his  earliest  works. 
The  religious  asjDiration  having  been  checked,  all  the 
strength  and  passion  of  his  nature  turned  to  poetry. 
"The  Messiah"  and  the  Odes  of  Klopstock,  and  Goethe's 
drama  of  "  Gotz  von  BerlicJiingenJ'  made  the  most  pow- 
erful impression  upon  his  mind,  and  the  circumstance 
that  all  such  reading  was  jjrohibited,  only  spurred  him 
the  more  to  enjoy  it  by  stealth.  Among  the  authors 
with  whom  he  became  acquainted  was  Shakespeare, 
whose  power  he  felt  without  clearly  comprehending  it. 
His  own  ambition  was  stimulated  by  his  intense  enjoy- 
ment of  poetry,  and  he  attempted  both  an  epic  and  a 
tragedy  before  his  eighteenth  year.  These  boyish  works 
he  threw  into  the  fire,  and  then  commenced  his  play  of 
^^Die  Raul)er'  (The  Robbers),  which  was  completed  about 
the  time  of  his  graduation  as  a  military  surgeon.  After 
being  appointed  to  a  regiment  in  Stuttgart,  and  feeling 


SCHILLER.  269 

that  the  subordinate  period  of  his  life  was  ended,  he 
published  "  The  Eobbers"  in  1781,  at  his  own  expense,  no 
publisher  daring  to  run  the  risk.  The  impression  which 
it  produced  was  as  immediate  and  powerful  as  that  of 
Byron's  "  Childe  Harold  "^ — he  woke  up  one  morning 
and  found  himself  famous.  Its  wild  and  passionate 
arraignment  of  Society,  its  daring  blending  of  magnanim- 
ity, courage  and  crime  in  the  same  character,  and  the 
stormy,  impetuous  action  which  sweeps  through  it  from 
beginning  to  end,  startled  not  only  Germany  but  all 
Europe.  The  popular  doctrines  which  preceded  the 
French  Revolution,  now  only  nine  years  off,  prepared 
the  way  for  it :  the  "  Storm  and  Stress  "  period  of  Ger- 
man literature,  exultant  over  the  overthrow  of  the  old 
dynasties  in  letters,  hailed  it  with  cries  of  welcome,  and 
in  the  chaotic  excitement  and  ferment  of  the  time  its 
flas^rant  violations  of  truth  and  taste  were  overlooked. 
Only  ii'^  defiant  power  and  freedom  were  felt  and  cele- 
brated, i^^en  in  reading  "  The  Robbers  "  now,  we  are 
forced  to  acknowledge  these  qualities,  although  we  are 
both  amused  and  shocked  at  its  extravagance.  Much  of 
the  j)lay  cannot  be  better  characterized  than  by  our 
slang  American  word — "  highfalutin."  No  one  saw  this 
more  clearly,  or  condemned  it  more  emphatically  than 
Schiller  himself,  in  later  years.  "  My  great  mistake," 
he  once  said,  "  was  in  attempting  to  represent  men  two 
years  before  I  really  knew  a  single  man." 

The  hostility  which  "The  Robbers"  provoked  was 


270  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

fully  as  intense  as  tlie  praise.  The  Conservative  senti- 
ment of  Germany  rose  in  arms  against  it.  The  Duke 
sent  for  Schiller  and  endeavored  to  exact  a  pledge  from 
him  that  he  would  j^ublish  nothing  further  without  first 
submitting  it  to  him,  the  Duke.  To  a  man  of  Schiller's 
temperament,  this  was  impossible.  Moreover,  he  had 
seen  the  unfortunate  poet  Schubart,  in  the  fortress  of 
Hohenas]3erg,  where  he  was  confined  ten  years  for  hav- 
ing ofiended  his  Kuler  by  the  liberal  tone  of  his  poetry, 
and  could  easily  guess  how  much  freedom  the  Duke's 
censorship  would  allow  him.  At  the  same  time  Baron 
Dalberg,  Director  of  the  theatre  at  Mannheim,  requested 
him  to  adapt  "  The  Eobbers  "  for  representation  on  the 
stage.  When  the  first  performance  was  to  take  place, 
Schiller,  unable  to  obtain  leave  of  absence,  went  to  Mann- 
heim without  it,  and  on  his  return  was  arrested  and  im- 
prisoned. His  insubordination  gave  great  offence  to  the 
Duke,  and  it  seems  probable  that  severer  measures  were 
threatened.  But  one  alternative  was  left  to  Schiller, 
and  he  adopted  it.  In  1782,  he  left  Stuttgart  in  dis- 
guise, and  under  an  assumed  name,  went  first  to  Mann= 
heim,  and  then  to  the  estate  of  a  friend  near  Meiningen, 
where  he  remained  in  complete  seclusion  for  almost  a 
year.  During  this  time  he  completed  his  plays  of 
"Fiesco  "  and  "  Kahale  und  Liehe  "  (Intrigue  and  Love), 
which  were  both  successful  on  the  stage.  It  is  easy 
to  detect  their  faults  of  construction  and  their  over- 
charged sentiment,  but  in  both  the  vital  warmth  and 


SCHILLEH.  2?i 

the  fire  of  the  author's  nature  make  themselves 
felt.  Tlie  general  public,  who  are  never  critical, 
found  a  new  sense  of  enjoyment  in  Schiller's  plays, 
and  accepted  him  in  spite  of  the  critics.  Towards 
the  close  of  1783,  he  was  summoned  to  Mannheim,  where 
Baron  Dalberg  offered  him  the  post  of  Dramatic  Poet, 
connected  with  the  theatrical  management.  He  re- 
mained there  eighteen  months,  and  during  this  time 
started  the  "Khenish  Thalia  "—a  literary  periodical 
which  treated  especially  of  the  drama.  Various  causes, 
which  need  not  now  be  explained,  combined  to  make  his 
position  disagreeable,  and  in  March,  1785,  he  took  up 
his  residence  in  Leipzig.  The  principal  cause  of  this 
change  was  a  circumstance  which  many  persons  would 
brand  as  "  sentimental,"  but  which  seems  to  me,  in  the 
noblest  sense,  human.  Some  months  previous,  he  had 
received  a  letter  from  Leipzig,  signed  by  four  unknown 
persons,  and  accompanied  by  their  miniature  portraits. 
These  persons  were  Huber  and  Korner,  both  of  whom 
became  afterwards  distinguished  in  letters,  and  Minna 
and  Doris  Stock,  their  betrothed  brides.  The  letter 
which  they  wrote  exhibited  so  much  refined  and  genial 
appreciation  of  Schiller's  genius — so  much  affectionate 
interest  in  his  fortunes — that,  to  Schiller's  eager  and 
impulsive  nature,  it  offered  him  an  escape  from  the 
annoyances  which  attended  his  position  at  Mannheim. 
Korner  and  Huber  received  him  like  brothers.  All 
they  had — money,  time,  counsel,  help, — he  was  free  to 


272  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

claim  :  the  "  sentiments  "  of  their  letter  to  the  unknown 
poet  were  justified  by  the  practical  results. 

Schiller's  critics  and  biographers  seem  to  have  united 
in  dividing  his  literary  life  into  three  distinct  periods, 
the  first  of  which  closes  with  his  emigration  from  Mann- 
heim to  Leipzig.  We  might  call  this  the  period  of 
Assertion,  and  designate  the  others  which  followed  as 
the  jDeriods  of  Deyelo23ment  and  Achievement.  Up  to 
this  time,  in  fact,  we  find  the  evidence  of  powers,  neither 
harmonious  nor  intelligent  as  yet,  forcing  their  way  to 
the  light :  we  find  the  spirit  of  other  jDoets  stimulating 
him  to  warmer  and  more  passionate  expression  than 
they  would  have  dared :  all  is  vi^dd,  luxuriant,  teeming 
wdth  life,  and  permeated  with  the  kindred  forces  of 
hoj)e  and  desire.  It  was  this  intense  vitality,  this  out- 
pouring of  a  nature  which  ]3ressed  upward  and  onward 
with  all  its  energies,  which  accounts  for  Schiller's  im- 
mediate popularity.  Something  similar  in  English  lit- 
erature was  the  reception  given  to  Bailey's  "Festus" 
and  Alexander  Smith's  "  Life  Drama  " — but  they  were 
really  the  end  of  their  achievement,  whereas  this  was  the 
beginning  of  Schiller's.  His  early  plays  and  poems  re- 
flect the  roused  and  restless  spirit  of  the  times, — the  uni- 
versal yearning  for  light  and  liberty.  The  beginning 
of  his  literary  activity  corresponds  exactly  with  the  date 
of  Lessing's  death.  The  field  was  therefore  cleared  for 
him,  and  we  shovild  not  marvel  if  something  of  the  wild- 
ness  and  crudity  of  a  first  settler  stamj)s  his  performance. 


SCEILLEB. 


273 


In  the  lyrics  belonging  to  tlie  First  Period,  the  glow 
and  warmth  which,  in  his  later  poems,  fuse  the  su-bject 
and  sentiment  together,  are  already  apparent,  although 
the  fusion  is  less  perfect.     They  are  mostly  irregular  in 
form  and  incomplete  in  thought.     The  poems  addressed 
to  "Laura"  correspond  to  Tennyson's  youthful  lyrics 
to   "Eleanore,"    "Adeline"   and  other   girlish  names, 
with  the  difference  that  the  sentiment  is  German  and 
not  English.     As  an  example  I  will  quote  two  brief 
lyrics,  "  Tartarus''  and  '^Elysium''   (of  the  latter  only 
the  first  half) : 


GRUPPE  AUS  DEM  TAKTARUS. 

Horcli— wie   Murmeln  des    em- 
porten  Meeres, 
Wie    durcli     hohler     Felsen 
Becken  weint  ein  Bacli, 
Stohnt    dort    dumpfigtief     ein 
schweres,  leeres, 
Qualerpresstes  Ach  ! 

ScTimerz  verzerret 
Hir  Gesiclit ;  Verzweiflung  sperret 
Tliren  Rachen  flucliend  auf . 

Hohl  sind  ihre  Augen,  ilire  Blicke 
Spahen  bang   nach  des   Cocytus 
Briicke, 
Folgen  thralinend  seinem  Trau- 
erlauf, 

Fragen  sich  einander  angstlicli 
leise, 
Ob  nocb  niclitVollendung  sei? 

12* 


A  GROXJP  IN   TAETARTJS. 

Hark  !   as  noises  of  the  lioarse, 
aroused  sea, 
As    tlirougli    bollow-tbroated 
rocks  a  streamlet's  moan. 
Sounds  below  there,  wearily  and 
endlessly, 
A  torture-burdened  groan  1 

Faces  wearing 
Pain  alone,  in  wild  despairing, 
Curse  tlirougli  jaws  tliat  open 
"wide ; 
And  witli  haggard  eyes  forever 
Gaze  upon  the  bridge  of  Hell's 
black  river, 
Weeping,  gaze  upon  its  sullen 
tide. 

Ask  each  other,  then,  in  fearful 
whispers. 
If  not  soon  the  end  shall  be? 


274 


GERMAN  LITERATURE, 


Ewigkeit  schwingt  tiber  ilinen  The  End? — tlie  scytlie  of  Time 

Kreise,  is  broken  ; 

Bricbt  die  Sense  des  Saturns  Over  them  revolves  Eternity  I 
entzwei. 


Now  let  US  turn  to  tlie  briglitiiess  and  music  of  his 
picture  of 

ELYSIUM. 
Voruber  die  stohnende  Klage  ! 


Elysiums  Freudengelage 

Ersiiufen  jegliches  Ach — 

Elysiums  Leben 
Ewige  Wonne,  ewiges  Schwe- 
ben. 


EliTSIUM. 

Gone  is   the  wail  and  the   tor- 
ture ! 
Elysium's  banquets  of  rapture 

Chase    every    shadow  of 
woe  ! 
Elysium,  seeing, 
Endless  the  bliss  and  end- 
less the  being, 


Durch  lachende  Fluren  ein  flo-       As  musical  brooks  through  the 
tender  Bach.  meadows  that  flow  ! 


Jugendlich  milde 
Beschwebt  die  Qefilde 
Ewiger  Mai ; 
Die  Stunden  entfliehen  in  golde- 

nen  Traumen, 
Die  Seele  schwillt  aus  in  unend- 
lichen  Riiumen, 
Wahrheit    reisst   hier  den 
Schleier  entzwei. 


May  is  eternal, 
Over  the  vernal 

Landscapes  of  youth : 
The  Hours  bring  golden  dreams 

in  their  races, 
The  soul  is  expanded  through 
infinite  spaces, 
The  veil  is  torn  from  the  vis- 
age of  Truth  ! 


Unendliche  Freude 
Durch  wallet  das  Herz. 

Hier  mangelt  der  Xame  dem 
trauernden  Leide  ; 

Sanfter  Entziicken  nur  heisset 
hier  Schmerz. 


Here  never  a  morrow 
The  heart's  full   rapture 
can  blight ; 
Even  a  name  is  wanting  to  Sor- 
row, 
And  Pain  is  only  a  gentler  de- 
Ught. 


SCHILLEB.  275 

A  comparison  of  these  early  poems  of  Scliiller  witL. 
tliose  of  Klopstock,  at  his  best  period,  will  show  how 
much  the  language  has  already  gained  in  fire  and  free- 
dom of  movement.  A  new  soul  has  entered  into  and 
taken  possession  of  it,  and  we  shall  find  that  the  promise 
of  loftier  development  was  not  left  unfulfilled. 

Korner  married  soon  after  Schiller's  arrival  in  Leip- 
zig, and  then  settled  in  Dresden,  whither  Schiller  fol- 
lowed him.  For  nearly  two  years  Korner's  house  was 
his  home.  The  play  of  "  Don  Carlos,''  which  he  had 
begun  to  write  in  Mannheim,  was  there  re-written  and 
completed.  It  was  a  great  advance  upon  his  former 
works,  although  far  below  what  he  afterwards  achieved. 
Few  dramatic  poems  are  more  attractive  to  young  men, 
and,  as  Goethe  says,  it  will  always  be  read,  because 
there  will  always  be  young  men.  In  the  character  of 
Don  Carlos  we  detect  a  great  deal  of  Schiller's  own 
aspiration  and  impatience  of  obstacles,  while  the  Mar- 
quis Posa  is  at  the  same  time  a  noble  ideal  and  an 
impossible  man.  The  great  attraction  of  the  play  is  its 
sustained  and  impassioned  eloquence. 

Before  its  publication,  Schiller's  circumstances  obliged 
him  to  cast  about  for  some  literary  labor  which  might 
support  him.  He  finally  decided  to  write  an  historical 
work,  selecting  the  Eevolt  of  the  Netherlands  for  his 
theme.  His  preliminary  studies  were  not  very  thorough, 
nor  was  the  history  ever  completed,  but  its  lively  and 
picturesque  narrative  style  gave  it  a  temporary  success. 


276  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

He  formed  various  other  plans  of  labor,  few  of  wliicli 
were  carried  out — probably  because  he  found  it  diffi- 
cult to  endure  much  drudgery  of  the  kind  ;  and  for 
several  years  his  life  was  burdened  with  pecuniary  em- 
barrassments. In  1787  he  went  to  Weimar  for  the  first 
time,  and  made  the  acquaintance  of  Wieland  and  Her= 
der.  Goethe  was  then  absent  in  Italy.  The  most 
important  result  of  this  visit,  however,  was  his  meeting 
in  Eudolstadt  with  his  future  wife,  Charlotte  von  Lenge- 
feld.  It  was  the  cause  of  his  returning  to  Rudolstadt 
the  following  summer,  and  there,  in  the  garden  of  the 
Lengefeld  family,  he  first  met  Goethe.  The  interview 
has  a  special  interest,  from  the  fact  that  these  two 
poets,  destined  to  be  friends  and  co-laborers,  mu- 
tually repelled  each  other.  Schiller  wrote  of  Goethe 
to  Korner :  "  His  whole  being  is,  from  its  origin,  con- 
structed differently  from  mine  ;  his  world  is  not  my 
world ;  our  modes  of  conceiving  things  are  essentially 
different,  and  with  such  a  combination  there  can  be  no 
substantial  intimacy  between  us."  Nevertheless,  it  was 
through  Goethe's  influence  that  Schiller,  early  in  1789, 
was  offered  the  place  of  Professor  of  History  at  the 
University  of  Jena.  Schiller  at  first  hesitated  about 
accepting  the  offer,  on  account  of  his  want  both  of 
preparation  and  of  natural  fitness,  but  he  was  tired  of 
his  homeless  life,  he  craved  some  fixed  means  of  sup- 
port, and  he  saw  in  the  appointment  the  first  step 
towards  marriage.     In  1858,  when  the  three-hundredth 


SGHILLEU.  277 

anniversary  of  the  University  of  Jena  was  celebrated,  I 
met  there  with  a  graduate,  ninety  years  old,  who  had 
heard  Schiller's  first  historical  lecture,  in  1789.     The 
account  he  gave  of  the  rush  of  the  younger  students  to 
hear  him,  and   the  immediate  popularity  of  the  new 
professor,  explained  the  modest  hints  of   his    success 
which  we  find  in  Schiller's  letters  to  Korner.     He  was 
so  new  to  the  subject  that  he  was  frequently  obliged  to 
learn  one  day  what  he  taught  the  next,  but  this  very 
circumstance  added  to  the  spirit  and  freshness  of  his 
lectures.     His  productive  activity  re-commenced  with 
this   change   in  his   fortunes.     In  February,  1790,  he 
married,  and  the  unrest  of  his  life  ceased ;  but  for  sev- 
eral years  thereafter  he  undertook  no  important  work 
except  the  "History  of  the  Thirty  Years'  War,"  which 
was  completed  in  1793.     Carlyle  speaks  of  this  work  as 
the  best  piece  of  historical  writing  which,  up  to  that 
time,  had  appeared  in  Germany. 

The  causes  of  this  apparent  inactivity — that  is,  inac- 
tivity, only  as  contrasted  with  his  usual  productive 
industry— were  two-fold.  In  the  year  1791  he  was 
attacked  with  an  inflammation  of  the  lungs  which 
brought  him  to  the  verge  of  the  grave,  and  left  lasting 
consequences  behind  it.  Meyer,  the  artist,  who  first 
met  Schiller  in  that  year,  states  that  his  appearance 
was  that  of  a  man  stricken  with  death.  Goethe  was 
with  Meyer,  and  said,  after  Schiller  had  passed  :  "  there 
are  not  more  than  fourteen  days  of  life  in  him."     But 


278  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

there  j^roved  to  be  fourteen  years,  and  fourteen  years 
of  such  earnest,  absorbing,  unremitting  labor,  such 
great  and  jDrogressive  achievement,  as  can  be  found  in 
the  life  of  no  other  poet  who  ever  lived.  Although 
Schiller  did  not  attain  the  highest,  he  j)ressed  towards 
the  highest  with  an  energy  so  intense  that  it  seems 
almost  tragic.  His  illness  was  a  cloud  which  was 
speedily  silvered  with  the  light  of  the  noblest  sym- 
pathy. The  news  of  his  death  had  gone  forth,  and  a 
company  of  his  unknown  friends  in  CojDenhagen  insti- 
tuted a  solemn  service  in  honor  of  his  name.  Among 
them  were  the  Prince  of  Augustenburg,  Count  Schim- 
melmann,  and  the  Danish  poet  Baggesen.  They  met  on 
the  shore  of  the  Baltic,  pronounced  an  oration  and 
chanted  a  dirge,  when  the  news  of  Schiller's  recovery 
reached  them  while  they  were  still  assembled.  A  joy- 
ous song  succeeded  the  mourning  services,  and  the  two 
noblemen  pledged  themselves  to  offer  the  poet  one 
thousand  thalers  annually  for  three  years,  that  he 
might  rest  and  recover  his  strength.  Thus,  as  his  early 
exile  brought  him  Korner's  friendship  and  help,  the 
illness,  which  disabled  him  for  a  time,  gave  him  a  new 
experience  of  human  generosity.  No  man  can  attract 
such  sympathy  unless  he  possesses  qualities  of  charac- 
ter which  justify  it.  We  are  reminded  of  Lowell's 
lines  : 

"  Be  noble,  and  the  nobleness  tliat  lies 
In  other  men,  sleeping  but  never  dead, 
Will  rise  in  majesty  to  meet  thine  own." 


SCHILLER.  279 

However,  it  was  not  alone  this  illness  which  inter- 
fered with  Schiller's  literary  activity.  I  have  called  his 
Second  Period  that  of  Development,  but  it  was  not,  there- 
fore, a  period  of  sound  and  harmonious  growth.  Before 
accepting  the  Professorship  at  Jena,  his  wandering, 
irregular  life  had  given  him  little  opportunity  for  quiet 
study ;  the  strongly  subjective  habit  of  mind,  which 
caused  him  to  throw  something  of  his  own  nature  into 
all  the  characters  of  his  dramas,  had  also  interfered 
with  his  true  education,  and  the  necessity  which  forced 
him  to  take  up  collateral  studies  was  a  piece  of  good 
fortune  in  the  end,  although  he  could  not  feel  it  so  at 
the  time.  He  was  nearly  thirty  years  old  before  he 
could  appreciate  the  objective  character  of  Shakespeare's 
genius.  When,  at  last,  his  eyes  were  opened,  he  looked 
upon  himself  and  recognized  his  own  deficiencies.  After 
Shakespeare  he  studied  Homer  and  the  Greek  drama- 
tists, and  was  then  led,  through  his  association  with  the 
learned  society  of  Jena,  into  the  misty  fields  of  philo- 
sophical speculation.  The  latter,  no  doubt,  misled  him 
as  positively  as  the  study  of  the  great  poets  had  guided 
him  towards  the  right  path.  He  became  a  zealous  dis- 
ciple of  Kant,  and  the  few  poems  which  he  wrote  dur- 
ing this  period  show  to  what  an  extent  his  mind  was 
given  to  theorizing.  His  poem  of  "  Die  Kiinstler " 
(The  Artists),  which  he  considered  at  the  time  his 
best  production,  is  chiefly  valuable  to  us  now  as  an 
example    of    poetry    crushed    by     philosophy.      His 


280  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

"Esthetic  Letters"  and  liis  "Essay  on  Naive  and 
Sentimental  Poetry,"  written  during  those  years,  con- 
tain many  admirable  passages,  but  we  cannot  help 
feeling  that  they  interfered  with  his  creative  power. 
It  was  a  period  of  transition  which  unsettled  the  ope- 
rations of  his  mind,  and  sometimes  j)revented  him 
from  seeing  clearly.  "  The  Artist,"  he  wrote,  in  a  pas- 
sage which  has  been  much  admired,  "the  Artist,  it  is 
true,  is  the  son  of  his  time ;  but  woe  to  him  if  he  is  its 
pupil,  or  even  its  favorite  !  Let  some  beneficent  divinity 
snatch  him,  when  a  suckling,  from  the  breast  of  his 
mother,  and  nurse  him  with  the  milk  of  a  better  time  ; 
that  he  may  ripen  to  his  full  stature  beneath  a  distant 
Grecian  sky.  And  having  grown  to  manhood,  let  him 
return,  a  foreign  shape,  into  his  century ;  not,  however, 
to  delight  it  by  his  presence,  but  dreadful,  like  the  son 
of  Agamemnon,  to  purify  it !  "  In  this  passage  Schiller 
expresses  his  own  temj)orary  ambition,  but  not  his  true 
place  in  literature.  The  ideal  he  represents  is  noble, 
but  it  is  partly  false.  The  Artist  cannot  grow  to  his 
full  stature  under  a  Grecian  sky :  he  must  not  be 
"  a  foreign  shape  "  in  his  century  :  he  must  place  his 
"better  time"  not  in  the  Past,  but  in  the  Future, 
and  make  himself  its  forerunner.  Schiller  seems  to 
have  had  an  instinct  of  his  unsettled  state.  Although 
he  conceived  the  plan  of  "  Wcdlenstein''  while  writing 
his  "  History  of  the  Thirty  Years'  War,"  he  hesitated 
for  a  long  time  before  beginning  to  write,  and,  in  his 
letters  to  Korner,  expresses  doubts  of  his  final  success. 


SCHILLER.  281 

The  one  poem  which  permanently  marks  this  phase 
of  Schiller's  life,  is  ^' Die  Gutter  GrieclienlaMls''  (The 
Gods  of  Greece) — one  of  the  finest  lyrics  in  the  lan- 
guage. The  fact  that  we  can  detect  the  secret  of  its 
inspiration  does  not  diminish  the  charm  which  seduces 
us  to  read  and  re-read  it,  until  its  impassioned,  resonant 
stanzas  are  fixed  in  the  memory.  Although  it  is  merely 
a  lament  for  the  lost  age  of  gods  and  god-like  men — a 
disparagement  of  the  Present,  exalting  a  Past  so  dis- 
tant that  it  becomes  ideal — the  poem  appeals  to  a 
universal  sentiment,  and  expresses  a  feeling  common 
to  all  educated  men,  at  one  period  of  their  lives.  Most 
poets  have  dropped  "melodious  tears"  upon  the  crown- 
ing civilization  of  Greece,  but  none  with  such  mingled 
fire  and  sweetness  as  Schiller.  At  the  time  when  this 
poem  appeared,  the  Counts  Stolberg,  who  represented 
a  rigidly  sectarian  clique  in  German  literature,  had 
assumed  a  position  of  hostility  to  the  Weimar  authors, 
and  they  bitterly  assailed  the  "Gods  of  Greece  "  on  the 
plea  that  it  was  an  attack  upon  Christianity !  This  is 
the  usual  subterfuge  of  narrow  natures :  it  is  so  much 
sasier  to  awaken  religious  prejudices  against  an  author, 
than  to  meet  him  with  fair  and  intelligent  criticism. 
The  Stolbergs  made  a  little  noise  for  a  time,  but  their 
malignity  was  as  futile  as  that  of  the  publisher,  Nicolai, 
in  Berlin,  who  coolly  declared  that  he  would  soon  sup- 
press Goethe  1 

I  quote  a  few  stanzas  of  the  "Gods  of  Greece:" 


282  GEBMAN  LITERATURE. 

Da  ilir  noch  die  schone  Welt  While  ye  governed  yet  tlie  cheer- 

regieret,  ful  nations, — 

An  der  Freude  leichtem  Giingel-  While  the  leading-strings  in 

band  Joy's  light  hand 

Selige  Geschlechter  noch  gef iih-  Led  the  fair,  the  happy  genera- 
ret,  tions, — 

Schone  Wesen  aus  dem  Fabel-  Beings  beautiful,  from  Fable= 

land  !  land  1 

Ach,  da  euer  Wonnedienst  noch  ^Vhile  they  came,  your  blissful 

glanzte,  rites  to  render, 

Wie  ganz  anders,  anders  war  es  Ah,   how  different  was   then 

da  !  the  day. 

Da  man  deine  Tempel  noch  be-  WTien  thy  fanes  with  garlands 

kranzte,  shone  in  splendor, 

Venus  Amathusia  !  Venus  Amathusia  ! 

Da    der    Dichtung    zauberische  Then    of    Poesy    the    veD     en- 

Hiille  chanted 

Sich  noch  lieblich  um  die  Wahr-  Sweetly  o'er  the  form  of  Truth 

heit  wand —  was  thrown  : 

Durch   die   Schopfung  floss  da  To    Creation    fullest    life    was 

Lebensfiille  granted, 

Und  was   nie   empfinden   wird,  And  from  soulless  things  the 

empfand.  spirit  shone. 

An    der    Liebe    Busen    sie    zu  Nature,  then,  ennobled,  elevated, 

driicken, 

Gab  man  hohern  Adel  der  Natur,  To  the  heart  of  human  love 

was  prest ; 

Alles    wies    den    eingeweihten  All   things,    to  the  vision   con- 

Blicken,  secrated, 

Alles  eines  Gottes  Spur.  All  things,  then,  a  God  con- 
fessed ! 

Wo  jetzt  nur,  wie  unsre  Weisen  Where,  as  now  our  sages  have 

sagen,  decided, 

Seelenlos    ein     Feuerball     sich  Soulless  whirls  a  ball  of  fire 

dreht,  on  high, 

Lenkte  damals   seinen  goldnen  Helios,  then,  his  golden  chariot 

Wagen  guided 

Helios  in  stiller  Majestat.  Through  the  silent  spaces  of 

the  sky. 


SCHILLER. 


283 


Diese  Holien  f  iillten  Oreaden, 
Eine  Dryas  lebt'  in  jenem  Baum, 

Aus  den  Urnen   liebliclier  Na- 

jaden 
Sprang     der      Strome      Silber- 

scliaum. 

Jener  Lorbeer  wand  sich  einst 

um  Hiilfe, 
Tantal's  Tochter  schweigt  in  die- 

sem  Stein, 
Syrinx   Klage   tont'   aus  jenem 

Scliilfe, 
Philomela's  Schmerz  aus  diesem 

Hain. 
Jener  Bach  empfing  Demeter's 

Ziihre, 
Die    sie    um    Persephonen    ge- 

weint, 
Und  von  diesem  Hiigel  rief  Cy- 

there — 
Ach,   umsonst  !     dem    schonen 

Freund. 

Eure  Tempel  lachten  gleich  Pa- 

lasten, 
Euch  verherrlichte  das  Helden- 

spiel 
An  des  Isthmus  kronenreichen 

Festen, 
Und  die  Wagen  donnerten  zum 

Ziel. 
Schon  geschlungne,  seelenvoUe 

Tanze 
Kreisten    um    den    prangenden 

Altar  ; 
Eure  Schlilfe   schmiickten   Sie- 

geskranze, 
Kronen  euer  duftend  Haar. 


Misty  Oreads  dwelt  on  yonder 
mountains  ; 
In  this  tree  the  Dryad  made 
her  home  ; 
Where  the  Naiads  held  the  urns 
of  fountains 
Sprang  the   stream  in  silver 
foam. 

Yonder  laurel  once  was  Daphne 
flying ; 
Yonder   stone   did    Niobe   re- 
strain : 
From  these  rushes  Syrinx  once 
was  crying, 
From  this  forest  Philomela's 
pain. 
For    her  daughter    Proserpine, 
the  mighty 
Ceres  wept  beside  the  river's 
fall; 
Here,     upon     these    hills,    did 
Aphrodite 
Vainly  on  Adonis  call. 


Then  like    palaces    your  fanes 
were  builded  : 
You  the  sports  of  heroes  glori- 
fied. 
At  the   Isthmian    games,    with 
garlands  gilded, 
When  the  charioteers  in  thun- 
der ride. 
Breathing  grace,  the  linked  and 
woven  dances 
Circled  round  your  altars,  high 
and  fair  ; 
On   your  brows   the  wreath   of 
victory  glances, — 
Crowns  on  your  ambrosial  hair. 


284:  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

Das    Evoe    muntrer    Tliyrsus-  Shouts  of  Bachanal  and  joyous 

scliwinger  singer, 

Und  der  Panther  prachtiges  Ge-  And  the  splendid  panthers  of 

spann  his  car, 

Meldeten   den  grossen   Freude-  Then    announced    the    mighty 

bringer ;  Rapture-bringer, 

Faun  und   Satyr  taumeln   ihm  With  his   Fauns  and  Satyrs, 

voran  !  from  afar  ! 

Um  ihn  springen  rasende   Ma-  Dancing    Maenads    round    his 

naden,  march  delight  us, 

Ihre  Tiinze  loben  seinen  Wein,  While  their  dances  celebrate 

his  wines, 

Und  des  Wirthes  braune  Wan-  And   the  brown   cheeks  of  the 

gen  laden  host  invite  us 

Lustig  zu  dem  Becher  ein.  Where     the     purple     goblet 

shines. 


"We  now  come  to  the  third  and  most  important  period 
of  Schiller's  life.  There  was,  as  I  have  said,  a  natural 
repulsion  between  him  and  Goethe,  when  they  first 
met;  but  it  extended  no  deeper  than  the  surface  of 
their  natures.  Goethe  was  ten  years  older,  and  the 
license  of  the  "  Storm  and  Stress  "  school,  from  which 
Schiller  was  just  emerging,  lay  far  behind  him :  the 
lives  of  the  two  men  had  been  wholly  different :  their 
temperaments  had  nothing  in  common  :  yet  both  cher- 
ished the  same  secret  ambition,  both  were  struggling 
towards  an  equally  lofty  ideal  of  literary  achievement. 
After  Schiller  settled  in  Jena  they  occasionally  met, 
without  being  drawn  nearer  ;  but  in  the  course  of  three 
or  four  years,  various  circumstances  compelled  them  to 
approach.  Both  stood  almost  alone,  independent  of 
the  clans  of  smaller  authors  who  assailed  them ;  both 


SCHILLEB.  285 

felt  the  need  of  a  generous  and  intelligent  sympathy. 
Schiller,  in  1794,  projected  a  new  literary  periodical, 
"i)ze  Horen,''  and  Goethe's  co-operation  was  too  im- 
portant to  be  overlooked.  He  replied  to  Schiller's 
letter  in  a  very  friendly  spirit,  and  the  two  scon 
afterwards  met  in  Jena.  They  became  engaged  in  a 
conversation  upon  natural  science,  which  was  con- 
tinued through  the  streets  to  the  door  of  Schiller's 
house.  Goethe  entered,  sat  down  at  a  table,  took 
a  pen  and  paper,  and  drew  what  he  called  a  typical 
plant,  to  illustrate  some  conclusions  at  which  he  had 
arrived  in  his  botanical  studies.  Schiller  examined  the 
drawing  carefully,  and  then  said  :  "  This  is  not  an  obser- 
vation, it  is  an  idea."  Goethe,  as  he  related  long  after- 
wards, was  very  much  annoyed  by  the  remark,  because 
it  betrayed  a  habit  of  thought  so  foreign  to  his  own ; 
but  he  concealed  his  feeling  and  quietly  answered: 
"  Well,  I  am  glad  to  find  that  I  can  have  ideas,  without 
being  aware  of  it."  The  conversation  presently  took 
another  turn,  and  the  two  poets  found  various  points 
wherein  they  harmonized.  They  parted  with  the  mutual 
impression  that  a  further  and  closer  intercourse  would 
render  them  a  mutual  service  ;  and  there  is  no  literary 
friendship  in  all  history  comparable  to  that  which 
thenceforth  united  them.  Their  unlikeness  was  both 
the  charm  and  the  blessing  of  their  intercourse.  Each 
affected  the  other,  not  in  regard  to  manner,  or  super- 
ficial  characteristics   of  style,  but  by  the   shock  and 


286  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

encounter  of  tliought,  by  approacliing  literature  from 
opposite  sides  and  contrasting  their  views,  by  stimu- 
lating the  better  development  of  each  and  giving  a  new 
spur  to  his  productiveness.  The  deep  and  earnest 
bases  of  their  natures  kept  them  together,  in  spite  of 
all  dissimilarity. 

Goethe  possessed  already  the  element  of  repose, 
which  was  wanting  to  Schiller.  He  had  a  feeling  for 
the  proportion  of  parts,  in  a  literary  work,  which 
Schiller  was  painfully  endeavoring  to  acquire.  His 
imagination  worked  from  above  downward,  in  order  to 
base  itself  upon  real,  palpable  forms,  while  the  natural 
tendency  of  Schiller's  was  to  get  as  far  away  as  possible 
from  the  reality  of  things.  The  difference  in  their  tem- 
peraments was  also  peculiar.  Schiller's  habit  was  to 
discuss  his  poetic  themes  in  advance  of  writing — to 
change  and  substitute,  to  add  here  and  cut  off  there, 
and  so  exhaust  the  modes  of  treatment  of  his  subject 
before  he  began  to  treat  it ;  while  Goethe  never  dared 
to  communicate  any  part  of  his  plan  in  advance.  When 
he  did  so,  he  lost  all  interest  in  writing  it.  His  judg- 
ment was  opposed  to  Schiller's  choice  of  "  Wallenstein'' 
for  dramatic  treatment ;  but  he  confessed  his  mistake 
when  the  work  was  finished.  Schiller,  on  the  other 
hand,  insisted  that  Goethe  would  write  a  poem  in 
ottava  rima — rhymed  stanzas  of  eight  lines — and  was 
thunderstruck  when  Goethe  sent  him  the  entire  manu- 
script of  "  Hermann  unci  Dorothea,''  written  in  hexame- 


SCHILLER.  287 

ters.  Tlie  thorough  independence  of  the  two  men  is  a 
rare  and  remarkable  feature  of  their  intercourse. 

The  rich  correspondence  left  to  us  from  those  jears 
enables  us  to  restore  all  the  details  of  Schiller's  life  and 
literary  labor.  The  income  which  he  derived  from  edit- 
ing and  superintending  his  periodical,  "The  Hours," 
was  not  more  than  five  hundred  dollars  a  year.  At  the 
end  of  seven  or  eight  years  it  was  discontinued  for  lack 
of  support.  Another  of  the  forms  of  drudgery  wdiereby 
Schiller  earned  his  bread,  was  the  publication  of  the 
"  MusenalmanacJi  "  or  "Calendar  of  the  Muses  " — an  an- 
nual volume  of  poetry.  He  was  obliged  to  procure 
contributions  from  all  the  principal  German  poets,  to 
arrange  them  in  proper  order,  contract  for  the  printing, 
read  the  proofs,  superintend  the  binding,  pay  the  au- 
thors and  send  specimen  copies  to  them.  The  pub- 
lisher, whose  only  labor  was  to  sell  the  books  thus 
furnished  to  his  hands,  paid  Schiller  twenty  dollars  for 
every  printed  sheet  of  sixteen  pages,  out  of  which  sum 
Schiller  paid  the  authors  sixteen  dollars,  reserving  four 
dollars  as  his  own  remuneration.  His  whole  profit  on 
the  volume  was  a  little  less  than  five  hundred  dollars, 
after  months  of  correspondence,  of  annoyance  with 
tardy  printers,  and  all  the  interruption  which  the  task 
caused  to  his  studies. 

The  completion  of  "  Wcdlensfein ''  was  fortunately 
delayed  by  these  labors  and  by  the  new  poetic  activity 
which  sprang  up  through  his  intercourse  with  Goethe. 


288  QEBMAN  LITERATURE. 

The  contact  of  two  such  electric  intellects  struck  out 
constant  flashes  of  light  from  both.  Schiller's  poetry, 
from  this  time,  exhibits  a  finish,  a  projDortion,  a  sus- 
tained and  various  music,  which  shows  that  his  powers 
were  at  last  reduced  to  order,  and  working  both  joy- 
ously and  intelligently.  Those  noble  poems,  "  Der 
Sjjatziergang  "  (The  Walk)  and  Das  Lied  von  der 
Glocke "  (The  Song  of  the  Bell)  were  soon  followed 
by  his  famous  ballads — some  of  which  are  masterpieces 
of  rhythmical  narrative.  "  Der  TaucJier  "  (The  Diver), 
"  Der  Gang  rwLch  dem  Eisenhammer  "  (The  Message  to 
the  Forge)  and  "Der  Bing  des  PoIyJcrates ''  (The  Eing  of 
Polycrates)  are  as  familiar  to  all  German  school-boys 
as  "Lochiel's  Warning"  or  "Young  Lochinvar  "  to 
ours,  and  no  translation  can  wholly  rob  them  of  their 
beauty.  In  them  we  find  no  trace  of  the  crudity  and 
extravagance  of  the  poems  of  the  First  Period,  nor  the 
somewhat  artificial,  metaphysical  character  of  most 
of  those  of  the  Second  Period.  The  first  foaming 
of  the  must  and  the  slow  second  fermentation  are 
over,  and  we  have  at  last  the  clear,  golden,  perfect 
wine  "cellared  for  eternal  time."  These  ballads 
might  properly  be  called  ejDical  lyrics.  Their  subjects 
have  an  inherent  dignity  ;  their  style  is  simple,  sus- 
tained and  noble  ;  their  rhetoric  has  never  been  sur- 
passed in  the  German  language,  and  their  resounding 
music  can  only  be  compared  to  that  of  such  English 
poems    as    Byron's     "Destruction    of    Sennacherib," 


SCHILLEB,  289 

Macaulay's  "Horatius,"   and  CampbeU's  "Mariners   of 
England." 

The  connection  with  Goethe  gave  rise  to  another 
joint  literary  undertaking,  of  a  very  different  character, 
provoked  by  the  continual  attacks  of  Count  Stolberg, 
Novalis,  Schlegel  and  their  followers.  Up  to  the  year 
1796,  neither  poet  had  taken  any  notice  of  the  abuse 
and  misrepresentation  heaped  upon  them ;  but  in  the 
summer  of  that  year,  Goethe,  who  had  been  reading  the 
Latin  Xenia  of  Martial,  wrote  a  few  German  Xenia, 
directed  against  his  literary  enemies.  Schiller  caught 
the  idea  at  once  ;  they  met  and  worked  together  until 
they  had  produced  several  hundred  stinging  epigrams 
of  two  or  four  lines  each,  and  then  they  j)ublished  the 
collection.  It  was  like  disturbing  a  wasps'  nest.  The 
air  of  Germany  was  filled  with  sounds  of  pain,  rage  and 
malicious  laughter.  As  Lewes  says :  "  The  sensation 
produced  by  Pope's  *Dunciad'  and  Byron's  'English 
Bards  and  Scotch  Reviewers '  was  mild  compared  with 
the  sensation  produced  by  the  ^Xenien,'  although  the 
wit  and  the  sarcasm  of  the  *  Xenien '  is  like  milk  and 
water  compared  with  the  vitriol  of  the  '  Dunciad '  and 
the  'English  Bards.'  "  Lewes,  however,  did  not  appre- 
ciate the  peculiar  sting  of  the  "  Xemen,"  which  did  not 
satirize  the  individual  authors  or  their  peculiarities 
of  expression,  so  much  as  their  intellectual  stand- 
point and  their  manner  of  thought.  The  hostility  cre- 
ated by  this  defence  and  counter-assault  of  Goethe 
13 


290  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

and  Schiller  liyecl  as  long  as  tlie  persons  who  suffered 
from  it. 

In  the  year  1799,  the  dramatic  trilogy  of  "  TVaUen- 
stein  "  was  completed.  Instead  of  the  one  tragedy  which 
Schiller  had  planned,  seven  years  before,  he  had  pro- 
duced three  plays — "  Wallensteiiis  Lager  "  (Wallenstein's 
Camp),  an  introductory  act,  in  eleven  scenes,  the  object 
of  which  is  to  give  a  picture  of  soldier-life,  towards  the 
close  of  the  Thirty  Years'  War:  ''Die  Piccolomini" 
which  discloses  the  conspiracy  against  Wallenstein,  and 
prepares  for  the  tragic  sequel  of  the  plot  in  the  third 
part — '' Wallensteins  TocV  (Wallenstein's  Death).  I 
have  said  that  the  work  was  fortunately  delayed,  because 
Schiller  had  not  attained  his  higher  development  when 
he  began  it.  The  feeling  of  uncertainty  which  made 
him  lay  it  aside  from  time  to  time  was  a  true  instinct : 
he  waited  until  he  felt  that  his  powers  were  equal  to  the 
task.  How  much  he  had  learned,  may  be  seen  by  com- 
paring "  Wallenstein'  and  ''Don  Carlos.'"  It  is  the  dif- 
ference between  passion  and  eloquence  and  impetuous 
movement,  and  the  stately,  secure  march  of  a  mind  which 
has  mastered  its  material.  In  "  Don  Carlos,''  we  feel 
that  Schiller  has  expressed  himself  affirmatively  in  the 
hero  and  the  Marquis  Posa,  and  negatively  in  Philip  II. 
and  the  Princess  Eboli :  whereas,  in  "  Wallenstein,'^ 
each  character  has  its  own  objective  life,  and  the  poet 
seems  calmly  to  chronicle  the  unfoldings  of  a  plot  which 
is  evolved  by  and  from  those  characters.     "  Walknstein  " 


SCHILLER. 


291 


belongs  in  tlie  first  rank  of  dramatic  poems,  after  those 
of  Shakespeare.  Coleridge's  Translation  gives  a  fair 
representation  of  it  in  English,  although  he  has  some- 
times  mistaken  Schiller's  meaning,  and  sometimes 
changed  the  text.  The  famous  passage,  referring  to 
the  forms  of  old  mythology,  which  he  has  added,  is  very 
beautiful  in  itself,  but  it  is  dramatically  out  of  place. 
It  may  be  interesting  to  you  to  know  just  what  Schillei 
wrote,  and  in  what  manner  Coleridge  has  amplified  the 
lines.     This  is  the  original  passage  : 


Die  Fabel  ist  der  Liebe  Heimath- 

land; 
Gem  wohnt  sie  unter  Feen,  Ta- 

lismanen, 
Glaubt  gem  an  G  otter,  well  sie 

gottlich  ist. 
Die  alten  Fabelwesen  sind  nicbt 

mehr, 
Das  reizende  Gescblecbt  ist  aus- 

gewandert  ; 
Docb  eine  Spracbe  brauclit  das 

Herz,  es  bringt 
Der  alte  Trieb  die  alten  Namen 

wieder, 
Und    an    dem    Sternenbimmel 

gelin  sie  jetzt, 
Die  sonst  im  Leben  freundlich 

mit  gewandelt  ; 
Dort  ^inken  sie  dem  Liebenden 

berab, 
Und  jedes    Grosse    bringt    uns 

Jupiter 
Nocb    diesen   Tag,    und  Venus 
jedes  Scbcine. 


For  Fable  is  the  native  home  of 

love  ; 
'Mid  fays  and  talismans  be  loves 

to  dwell, 
Believes  in  Gods,  being  bimself 

divine. 
Tbe  ancient  forms  of  fable  are 

no  more. 
The  enchanting  race  has  gone, 

migrating  forth  ; 
Yet  needs  the  heart  its  language. 

yet  return 
The  olden   names  when  moves 

the  old  desire. 
And  still  in  yonder  starry  heav- 
ens they  live 
Who    once,    benignant,    shared 

the  life  of  earth  ; 
There,  beckoning  to  the  lover, 

they  look  down, 
And  even  now  'tis  Jupiter  that 

brings 
Whate'er  is  great,   and  Venus 
all  that's  fair  1 


292  GERMAN  LITERATURR 

I  will  now  give  the  mixture  of  Schiller  aucl  Coleridge : 

For  Fable  is  Love's  world,  his  home,  his  birth-place  : 

Delightedly  dwells  he  'mong  fays  and  talismans 

And  spirits  ;  and  delightedly  believes 

Divinities,  being  himself  divine. 

The  intelligible  forms  of  ancient  poets. 

The  fair  humanities  of  old  religion, 

The  power,  the  beauty,  and  the  majesty. 

That  had  their  haunts  in  dale,  or  piny  mountain. 

Or  forest  by  slow  stream,  or  pebbly  spring, 

Or  chasms  and  watery  depths  ;  all  these  have  vanished  ; 

They  live  no  longer  in  the  faith  of  reason  ! 

But  still  the  heart  doth  need  a  language,  still 

Doth  the  old  instinct  bring  back  the  old  names. 

And  to  yon  starry  world  they  now  are  gone. 

Spirits  or  gods,  that  used  to  share  this  earth 

With  man,  as  with  their  friend  ;  and  to  the  lover 

Yonder  they  move,  from  yonder  visible  sky 

Shoot  influence  down  :  and  even  at  this  day 

'Tis  Jupiter  brings  whate'er  is  great. 

And  Venus  who  brings  everything  that's  fair  1 

There  is  no  doubt  that  Coleridge  has  here  touched  to 
adorn :  there  is  nothing  in  Schiller's  lines  so  fine  as 
*'  the  fair  humanities  of  old  religion  " — but  his  digres- 
sion is  a  violation  of  the  dramatic  law  by  which  Schiller 
was  governed.  We  pardon  it  for  its  beauty,  yet  we 
should  be  wrong  in  allowing  such  a  liberty  to  trans- 
lators. 

In  1799,  Schiller  removed  to  Weimar.  The  Duke, 
Karl  August,  influenced  by  Goethe,  offered  him  a  pen- 
sion of  one  thousand  thalers  a  year,  with  the  condition 
that  it  should  be  doubled,  in  case  of  illness.  Schiller, 
however,  refused  to  accej^t  this  condition,  saying :  "  I 


SCHILLER.  293 

have  some  talent,  and  that  must  do  the  rest."  The  suc- 
cess of  "  Wallenstein "  stimulated  him  to  new  labor. 
During  the  year  1800,  he  wrote  '^ Marie  Stuart;'''  in 
1801,  ''Die  Juncjfrau  von  Orleans''  (The  Maid  of 
Orleans) ; "  and  in  1802,  "  Die  Braut  von  Messina  "  (The 
Bride  of  Messina).  The  first  and  second  of  these  plays 
were  more  popular  than  "  Wallenstein^'  perhaps  for  the 
reason  that  they  are  inferior  as  dramatic  works.  The 
interest  is  more  obvious,  the  action  is  less  involved,  and 
there  are  passages  in  each  full  of  that  power  and  elo- 
quence which  tells  so  immediately  upon  an  audience. 
In  "The  Bride  of  Messina  "  Schiller  made  a  very  daring 
experiment.  He  wrote  the  play  in  rhyme,  and  intro- 
duced a  chorus,  in  imitation  of  the  classical  drama.  All 
his  rhythmical  genius,  all  the  splendor  of  his  rhetoric 
were  employed ;  but  the  result  was,  and  is  to  this  day, 
uncertain.  The  "Bride  of  Messina  "  is  still  occasionally 
presented  on  the  German  stage ;  but  it  is  listened  to 
more  as  a  brilliant  phenomenon  than  as  a  confirmed 
favorite  of  the  public.  The  innovation  has  not  been 
naturalized  in  Germany,  and  probal^y  never  will  be. 

In  the  year  1802,  at  the  request  of  the  Duke,  the 
Emperor  of  Austria  conferred  a  patent  of  nobility  upon 
Schiller.  The  cause  of  this  honor  was  not  his  genius 
as  a  poet,  but  the  circumstance  that  his  wife,  losing  the 
von  out  of  her  name  in  marrying  him,  had  forfeited  her 
right  to  appear  in  Court  society — a  right  which  she 
possessed  before  her  marriage.     Of  course  the  rules  of 


294  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

the  Court  could  not  be  broken,  or  the  Earth  might  have 
been  shaken  from  its  orbit ;  so  the  only  way  in  which 
the  Frau  Schiller  could  recover  her  lost  aristocracy  was 
to  make  her  husband  Friedrich  von  Schiller.  It  was 
only  for  her  sake  that  he  accepted  the  title  :  it  enabled 
him  to  repay  her  for  the  conventional  sacrifice  which 
she  had  made  in  marrying  him.  It  is  true,  neverthe- 
less, that  he  was  far  from  being  democratic  in  his  polit- 
ical  views.  The  Democracy  of  Germany  celebrates  him 
as  its  special  poet,  and  condemns  Goethe  for  his  aristo- 
cratic predilections.  This  impression  is  so  fixed  that 
it  is  now  almost  impossible  to  change  it ;  yet,  if  there 
was  any  difference  between  the  two  poets,  Goethe  was 
certainly  the  more  democratic.  It  seems  to  me  that 
Schiller's  intellectual  revolt  against  authority  in  his 
youth,  combined  with  the  intense  yearning  for  spiritual 
growth  and  spiritual  freedom  which  throbs  like  an  im- 
mortal pulse  of  life  through  all  his  later  works,  must  be 
accepted  as  the  explanation.  Such  expressions  as  "  Free- 
dom exists  only  in  the  realm  of  dreams,"  and  "  The  Poet 
should  walk  with  Kings,  for  both  dwell  upon  the  heights 
of  humanity" — certainly  do  not  indicate  a  political  feel- 
ing at  all  republican  in  its  character.  In  1814,  Goethe 
said  to  Eckermann  :  "  People  seem  not  to  be  willing  to 
see  me  as  I  am,  and  turn  away  their  eyes  from  every- 
thing which  might  set  me  in  a  true  light.  On  the 
other  hand,  Schiller,  who  was  much  more  of  an  aristo- 
crat than  I,  but  who  was  also  much  more  considerate 


SCHILLER.  295 

in  regard  to  what  lie  said,  liad  tlie  remarkable  fortune 
of  being  always  looked  upon  as  a  friend  of  the  jDeople. 
I  do  not  grudge  him  his  good  luck :  I  console  myself 
with  the  knowledge  that  others  before  me  have  had  the 
same  experience." 

As  Schiller's  life  drew  towards  a  close,  the  outward 
evidences  of  his  success  came  to  cheer  and  encourage 
him.     In  Leipzig,  in  1803,  and  in  Berlin,  in  1804,  he 
was  received  with  every  mark  of  honor.     The  King  of 
Prussia  offered  him  a  salary  of  three  thousand  thalers, 
to  take  charge  of  the  Eoyal  theatre,  but  he  refused  to 
give  up  Weimar,  and  the  intercourse  with  Goethe,  which 
had  now  become  an  intellectual  necessity.      His  last 
great  work,  by  some  critics  pronounced  to  be  his  great- 
est dramatic  success,  was  the  play  of  "  Wilhelm  Teli;' 
the  subject  of  which,  and  part  of  the  material,  he  owed 
to  Goethe.     It  is  a  pleasant  illustration  of  the  manner 
in  which  the  two  poets   assisted  each  other.     When 
Goethe  visited  Switzerland  in  1797,  he  formed  the  idea 
of  writing  an  epic  poem,  with  Tell  as  the  hero.     He 
made  studies  of  the  scenery,  collected  historical  data, 
and  for  two  or  three  years  carried  the  plan  about  with 
him,  letting  it  sloAvly  mature  in  his  mind,  as  was  his 
habit  of  composition.     He  finally  decided  to  give  it  up, 
but,  feeling  that  the  subject  was  better  adapted  to  dra- 
matic representation  than  epic  narrative,  he  gave  his 
material   to   Schiller,   reserving  only  a  description  of 
sunrise  among  the  Alps,  which  is  now  to  be  found  in 


296  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

the  first  scene  of  the  Second  Part  of  "  Faust.''  The  in- 
tense, glowing  quality  of  Schiller's  imagination  soon 
assimilated  this  foreign  material,  and  in  none  of  his 
works  is  there  such  a  fusion  of  subject,  scenery  and 
sentiment.  From  the  first  page  to  the  last,  the  reader 
— or  the  hearer — is  set  among  the  valleys  of  the  Alps, 
and  surrounded  by  a  brave  and  oppressed  people.  His- 
torians may  attempt  to  show  that  there  never  was  either 
a  William  Tell  or  a  Gessler — that  the  whole  story  is  a 
myth,  borrowed  from  Denmark,  but  Schiller  has  made 
Tell  a  real  person  for  all  time.     As  he  says,  in  one  of 

his  lyrics : 

Was  sich  nie  und  nirgends  hat  begeben. 
Das  allein  veraltet  nie. 

There  are  serious  dramatic  faults  in  the  work,  but 
they  never  can  affect  its  jDojDularity.  It  has  that  exqui- 
site beauty  and  vitality  which  defy  criticism.  The  dic- 
tion has  all  the  dignity  of  that  of  "  Wallenstein,''  with  an 
ease  and  grace  of  movement,  which  cannot  be  called 
new  in  Schiller,  and  which  exhibits  the  perfection  of  his 
best  qualities.  If  any  one  supposes  that  the  German 
language  is  harsh  and  unmusical,  let  him  listen  to  the 
song  of  the  fisher-boy,  rocking  in  his  boat  on  the  lake, 
with  which  the  drama  opens : 

FiSCHKRKNABE.  FiSHER-BOY. 

Es  lacbelt  der  See,  er  ladet  zum  Inviting  the  bather,  the  bright 

Bade,  lake  is  leaping  ; 

Der  Knabe  schlief  ein  am  grii-  The  fisher-boy  lies  on  its  margin 

nen  Gestade,  a-sleeping ; 


SCHILLER. 


297 


Da  liort  er  ein  Klingen, 
Wie  Floten  so  siiss, 
Wie  Stimmen  der  Engel 
Im  Paradies. 
Und,  wie  er  erwachet   in  seliger 

Lust, 
Da  spiilen  die  Wasser  ihm  um 
die  Brust. 

Und  es  ruft  aus  den  Tie- 
fen  : 
Lieb  Knabe  bist  mein  ! 

Icb  locke  den  Sclilafer, 
Ich  zieh  ibn  herein. 


Tben  hears  he  a  music 
Like  flutes  in  its  tone. 
Like  voices  of  angels 
In  Eden  alone. 
And  as  he  awakens,  enraptured 

and  blest, 
The  waters  are  whirling  around 
his  breast  ; 

And    a    voice    from    the 

waters 
Says:  "mine   thou  must 

be! 
I  wait  for  the  sleeper, 
I  lure  him  to  me  1 " 


HiRT. 

Ihr  Matten,  lebt  wohl  1 
Ihr  sonnigen  Weiden  I 
Der  Senne  muss  scheiden, 

Der  Sommer  ist  hin. 
Wir  fahren  zu  Berg,  wir  kom- 

men  wieder, 
Wenn  der   Kukuk  ruft,    wenn 

erwachen  die  Lieder, 
Wenn  mit  Blumen  die  Erde  sich 

kleidet  neu, 
Wenn  die  Brlinnlein  fliessen  im 
lieblichen  Mai, 

Ihr  Matten,  lebt  wohl  1 
Ihr  sonnigen  Weiden  ! 
Der  Senne  muss  scheiden, 

Der  Sommer  ist  hin. 

Alpenjager. 
Es  donnern  die  Hohen,   es  zit- 

tert  der  Steg, 
Nicht  grauet  dem  Schiitzen  auf 

Bchwindlichtem  Weg ; 

13* 


Herdsman. 

Te  meadows,  farewell ! 
Ye  sunniest  pastures. 
The  herdsman  must  leave 

you. 
The  summer  is  gone. 
We  go  from  the  hills,  we  come 

ere  long 
When  the  cuckoo  calls,  and  the 

sound  of  song  ; 
When  the  earth  with  blossoms 

again  is  gay, 
When  the  fountains  gush  in  the 
lovely  May 

Te  meadows,  farewell ! 
Ye  sunniest  pastures, 
The  herdsman  must  leave 

you. 
The  summer  is  gone. 

Alpine  Hunter. 
The     avalanche    thunders,   the 

bridges  are  frail, 
The  hunter  is  fearless,  though 

dizzy  the  trail : 


298  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

Er  shreitet  verwegen  He  strides  in  his  daring 

Auf  Feldern  von  Eis ;  O'er  deserts  of  snows, 

Da  pranget  kein  Fruhling,  Where  Spring  never  blos- 
soms 

Da  griinet  kein  Reis  ;  And  grass  never  grows, 

TJnd,  unter  den  Fiissen  ein  ne-  And  the  mists  like  an  ocean  be- 

blichtes  Meer,  neath  him  are  tost, 

Erkennt  er  die  Stadte  der  Men-  Till  the  cities  of  men  to  his  vi- 

schen  nicht  mehr  ;  sion  are  lost. 

Durch   den  Riss  nur  der  Through  the  rifts  of  the 

Wolken  cloud-land 

Erblickt  er  die  Welt,  The  far  world  gleams, 

Tief  unter  den  VVassern  And  the  green  fields  un- 
der 

Das  griinende  Feld.  The  Alpine  streams. 

Such  is  the  musical  overture  of  Alpine  life  with  which 
Schiller  opens  the  drama. 

He  never  recovered  from  the  inflammation  of  the 
lungs,  which  attacked  him  in  1791.  During  the  last  ten 
or  twelve  years  of  his  life  he  was  rarely  free  from  pain, 
but  his  mind  seems  to  have  been  always  clear  and  vigor- 
ous, and  his  astonishing  industry  was  really  a  necessity 
to  his  nature.  He  lived  in  his  art,  and  was  happy  in 
recognizing  his  own  progress  towards  a  lofty  and  far-off 
ideal.  In  order  to  avoid  interruption,  he  contracted 
the  habit  of  writing  wholly  at  night,  and  of  keeping  off 
drowsiness  by  setting  his  feet  in  a  tub  of  cold  water. 
He  was  physician  enough  to  know  that  he  was  shorten- 
ing his  life  by  such  an  unnatural  habit  of  labor,  but  his 
literary  conscience  was  inexorable.  For  him  there  was 
no  rest,  no  relaxation.  No  sooner  was  "  William  Tell " 
given  to  the  stage,  and  triumphantly  greeted  by  .the 


SGHILLEB.  299 

public,  tlian  lie  began  a  new  dramatic  poem,  taking  for 
his  liero  the  false  Demetrius,  who  imposed  himself  on 
the  Eussian  bojards  as  the  true  heir  to  the  throne,  and 
reigned  for  some  months  in  Moscow.  In  the  spring  of 
1805,  when  midway  in  his  work,  he  was  seized  with  a 
chill  at  the  theatre,  and  went  home,  never  to  leave  his 
door  again  as  a  living  man.  A  few  hours  before  his 
death,  he  seemed  to  realize  his  condition,  and  uttered 
the  words :  "  Death  cannot  be  an  evil,  for  it  is  uni- 
versal." He  died  on  the  9th  of  May,  aged  forty-five 
years  and  six  months.  His  remains  now  rest  in  a  granite 
sarcophagus,  by  the  side  of  Goethe,  in  the  vault  of  the 
Ducal  family  at  Weimar. 

In  carefully  studying  Schiller's  life  and  works,  and 
contrasting  his  position  in  German  literature  with  that 
of  his  contemjDoraries,  we  are  struck  with  a  certain  dis- 
crepancy between  his  fame  and  his  achievement.  With 
all  his  rare  and  admirable  qualities,  we  cannot  place  him 
higher  than  in  the  second  rank  of  poets — in  the  list 
which  includes  Yirgil,  Tasso,  Corneille,  Spenser  and 
Byron.  Yet  his  place  in  popular  estimation,  not  only 
in  Germany,  but  throughout  the  educated  world,  is  cer- 
tainly among  the  first.  His  fame  is  of  that  kind  which 
depends  partly  upon  the  sympathetic  attraction  that 
sometimes  surrounds  an  individual  life, — in  other  words, 
the  interest  of  character  is  added  to  the  intellectual 
recognition  of  the  poet.  We  may  say  that  a  character 
so  positive  as  Schiller's  breathes  through  his  literary 


300  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

records,  and  cannot  be  disconnected  from  his  intellect ; 
but  we  sliall  only  state  tlie  same  fact  in  a  different  form. 
To  other  poets — to  Tasso,  Burns  and  Byron — the  same 
personal  interest  is  attached,  yet  in  no  one  does  it  spring 
from  that  lofty,  unceasing  devotion  to  a  noble  literary 
Ideal,  which  gave  its  consecration  to  Schiller's  life. 
Like  Lessing,  he  sought  Truth,  but  not  in  the  realm  of 
fact.  To  him  she  was  not  a  severe,  naked  form,  beauti- 
ful as  a  statue,  but  as  hard  and  cold ;  she  was  rather  a 
shaj)e  of  air  and  light,  j^oised  above  the  confusion  of 
life,  in  a  region  of  aspiration  and  hope.  The  sense  of 
her  beauty  came  to  Schiller  through  sentiment  and 
sensation,  as  well  as  through  the  intellect ;  and  herein 
he  touches  the  universal  yearning  of  Man. 

His  power  over  the  harmonies  of  language  was  never 
so  grandly  manifested  as  in  some  passages  of  Homer, 
Milton  and  Goethe  ;  but  it  is  more  uniformly  fine  than 
in  almost  any  other  poet.  From  the  tones  of  a  flute  or 
a  wind-harp  he  rises  to  the  strength  and  resonance  of  an 
organ,  and  in  many  of  his  lyrics  the  rich  volume  of 
sound  rolls  unbroken  to  the  end.  His  language  some- 
times reflects  the  struggle  of  his  thought  to  shape  itself 
clearly  ;  but  it  is  always  pure  and  elevated,  and  his  lines 
and  stanzas  cling  to  the  memory  with  wonderful  tenacity. 
These  qualities,  which  address  themselves  primarily  to 
the  ear,  support  his  sentiment  and  thought,  and  bear 
them,  as  if  unconsciously,  into  a  higher  atmosphere  of 
poetry.     There  is  an  upward  tendency — a  lifting  of  the 


SCHILLER.  301 

intellectual  vision,  a  stirring  as  of  unfolding  wings — in 
almost  everything  lie  has  written.  He  is  an  example  of 
a  genius,  not  naturally  of  the  highest  order,  carried  by 
the  force  of  an  aspiring,  enthusiastic,  believing  tempera- 
ment almost  to  a  level  with  the  highest.  Where  so 
many  others  lose  faith  and  cease  exertion,  he  began. 
That  is  the  difference  between  the  Schiller  of  "  The 
Eobbers"  and  the  Schiller  of  "  Wallenstein "  and  the 
Ballads. 

Carlyle  says  of  him :  "  Schiller  has  no  trace  of  van- 
ity ;  scarcely  of  pride,  even  in  its  best  sense,  for  the 
modest  self-consciousness  which  characterizes  genius  is 
with  him  rather  implied  than  openly  expressed.  He 
has  no  hatred ;  no  anger,  save  against  Falsehood  and 
Baseness,  where  it  may  be  called  a  holy  anger.  Pre- 
sumptuous triviality  stood  bared  in  his  keen  glance: 
but  his  look  is  the  noble  scowl  that  curls  the  lip  of  an 
Apollo,  when,  pierced  with  sun-arrows,  the  serpent  ex- 
pires before  him.  In  a  word,  we  can  say  of  Schiller 
what  can  only  be  said  of  a  few  in  any  country  or  time  : 
He  was  a  high  ministering  servant  at  Truth's  altar,  and 
bore  him  worthily  of  the  office  he  held His  intel- 
lectual character  has  an  accurate  conformity  with  his 
moral  one.  Here,  too,  he  is  simple  in  his  excellence ; 
lofty  rather  than  expansive  or  varied ;  pure,  divinely 
ardent  rather  than  great." 

I  have  allowed  myself  no  space  to  examine  Schiller's 
works  in  detail,  because  it  is  better  first  to  define  the 


302  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

place  which  his  life  occupies  in  the  literary  history  of 
Germany,  and  his  individual  characteristics  as  a  poet. 
Though  disparaged  by  the  Stolbergs,  Eiemer  and 
others,  and  exalted  by  Borne  and  a  class  of  later  writers 
above  Goethe,  he  has  fixed  his  own  true  place  at  the 
side  of  the  latter,  lower  through  the  opj)ortunities  of 
life,  lower  in  breadth  of  intellect  and  the  development 
of  all  the  faculties,  but  equal  in  aspiration  and  equal 
in  his  own  field  of  achievement.  His  life  is  an  open 
book  for  whoever  chooses  to  read  it.  All  his  early  im- 
patience and  extravagance,  all  the  struggles  through 
which  he  rose,  the  steps  whereby  he  climbed  to  a 
knowledge  of  himself  and  his  art,  are  revealed  to  our 
gaze ;  but  when  the  history  closes,  we  leave  him  in  the 
rijDeness,  the  harmony,  the  joyous  activity  of  his  powers, 
and  this  final  imj)ression  is  the  standard  by  which  we 
measure  his  fame. 

No  German  poet  siitce  Schiller  has  equalled  his  mag- 
nificent rhythm  and  rhetoric.  The  language  has  been 
made  sweeter,  clearer,  more  flexible  :  it  has  caught  new 
varieties  of  movement  and  melody :  it  has  been  forced 
to  reflect  the  manner  of  many  new  minds,  yet  in  the 
qualities  I  have  mentioned  Schiller  is  still  the  climax  of 
performance. 

I  can  find  no  more  fitting  words  to  close  this  review 
of  a  life  measured  by  heart-throbs  and  brain-throbs, 
rather  than  by  years,  than  the  stanzas  which  Goethe 
dedicated  to  his  memory,  as  an  epilogue  to  the  "Song 


SCHILLER.  303 

of  tlie  Bell,"  wlien  it  was  represented  in  Weimar,  in  the 
year  1815 : 

"  Denn  er  war  unser  !     Mag  das  stolze  Wort 
Den  lauten  Schmerz  gewaicig-  ubertonen  1 
Er  moclite  sich  bei  uns,  im  sichern  Port 
Nach  wildem  Sturm  zum  Dauernden  gewhonen. 
Indessen  scliritt  sein  Geist  gewaltig  fort 
Ins  Ewige  des  Wahren,  Guten,  Sclionen, 
Und  liinter  ilim,  in  wesenlosem  Scheine, 
Lag,  was  uns  Alle  bandigt,  das  Gemeine. 

Nun  gliihte  seine  Wange  rotli  und  rotter 
Von  jener  Jugend,  die  uns  nie  entfliegt. 
Von  jenem  Mutli,  der  frilher  oder  spater. 
Den  Wiederstand  der  stumpfen  Welt  besiegt. 
Von  jenem  Glauben,  der  sich  stets  erliohter 
Bald  kiibn  beiTordriingt,  bald  geduldig  schmiegt, 
Damit  das  Gute  wirke,  wacbse,  fromme, 
Damit  der  Tag  dem  Edlen  endlich  komme  1** 


For  be  was  ours  !     Be  tbis  proud  conscionsness 

A  spell  that  shall  subdue  our  lamentation  I 

He  sought  with  us  a  harbor  from  the  stress 

Of  storms,  a  more  enduring  inspiration. 

While  with  strong  step  his  mind  did  forward  press 

To  Good,  Truth,  Beauty,  in  its  pure  creation. 

And  far  behind  him  lay,  a  formless  vision. 

The  vulgar  power  that  fetters  our  ambition. 

And  thus  his  cheek  grew    ed,  and  redder  ever. 
From  that  fair  youth  whose  wings  are  never  furled. 
That  courage,  crowned  at  last,  whose  proud  endeavor 
Tames  the  resistance  of  the  stubborn  world, — 
That  faith,  that  onward,  upward,  mounts  forever. 
Now  patient  waiting,  now  in  conflict  hurled. 
That  so  the  Good  shall  work,  increase  and  sway, 
And  for  the  noble  man  sliall  dawn  a  nobler  day  I 


GOETHE. 

In  considering  tlie  central  figure  of  the  great  age  of 
German  literature — the  god,  he  might  be  called,  who 
sits  alone  on  the  summit  of  the  German  Parnassus — I 
feel  how  impossible  it  is  to  give  more  than  the  merest 
outline  of  a  life  which  was  both  broad  and  long,  of  an 
activity  unbroken  for  more  than  sixty  years,  and  cover- 
ing in  its  range  nearly  every  department  of  Literature, 
Art  and  Science.  If  a  cabinet-picture  will  suffice  for 
Klopstock  and  Wieland,  a  life-size  sketch  for  Lessing 
and  Schiller,  I  feel  the  need  of  a  canvas  of  heroic  pro- 
portions when  I  come  to  portray  Goethe. 

If  I  were  not  afraid  of  falling  into  the  fault  which  I 
have  attributed  to  the  German  mind — of  constructing  a 
theory  wherever  the  operation  is  possible — I  might  trace 
a  gradual  order  of  development  in  the  authors  who  pre- 
ceded  Goethe,  and  show  how  his  intellect,  possessing 
the  supreme  quality  which  was  lacking  in  them,  both 
individually  and  collectively,  became  the  crowning  ele- 
ment in  German  literature.  But  it  will  be  enough  to 
say  that  he  was  born  "  in  the  fullness  of  time  " — when 
Klopstock,  Lessing,  Wieland  and  Herder  were  already 

304 


OOETEE.  305 

upon  the  stage ;  and  that  the  experience  prepared  for 
him  by  their  labors  was  precisely  that  which  his  devel- 
opment required.  In  the  case  of  Klopstock,  we  have  a 
useful  and  fortunate,  though  not  a  great  life  ;  in  Lessing 
and  Schiller,  a  life  of  struggle,  nobly  endured  ;  in  Wie- 
land  and  Herder,  lives  of  change,  of  action  and  ambi- 
tion, fruitful  in  influence  ;  but  in  Goethe  we  find  a  long, 
rich,  and  wholly  fortunate  life,  almost  unparalleled  in 
its  results.  In  him  there  is  no  unfulfilled  promise,  no 
fragmentary  destiny :  he  stands  as  complete  and  sym- 
metrical and  satisfactory  as  the  Parthenon. 

I  can  best  represent  his  achievements  by  connecting 
them  with  the  events  of  his  life ;  and  must  therefore 
give  an  outline  of  his  biography.  If  many  of  you  are 
already  familiar  with  the  principal  facts,  you  will  par- 
don me  for  repeating  them,  since  I  can  thus  best  de- 
scribe the  man.  Johann  Wolfgang  Goethe  was  born  in 
Frankfort  on  the  Main,  on  the  28th  of  August,  1749. 
His  father,  the  Councillor  Goethe,  was  a  man  of  wealth, 
education  and  high  social  position ;  his  mother  was  the 
daughter  of  the  Imperial  Councillor  Textor.  These 
officials  of  the  free  city  of  Frankfort  considered  them- 
selves on  a  par  with  the  nobility  of  other  German  lands, 
and  were  equally  proud  and  dignified  in  their  bearing. 
Goethe  was  not  only  a  marvelous  child,  but  he  enjoyed 
marvelous  advantages,  from  his  very  birth.  His  mother 
invented  fairy  stories  for  his  early  childhood  ;  he  learned 
French  from  an  officer  quartered  in  his  father's  house ; 


306  GERMAX  LITERATURE. 

the  best  teachers  were  pro^dcled  for  him,  and  when  only 
eight  years  old,  he  was  able  to  write — not  very  cor- 
rectly, of  course — in  the  German,  French,  Italian,  Greek 
and  Latin  languages.  His  beauty,  his  precocious  talentj 
his  bright,  sparkling,  loveable  nature,  procured  him  an 
indulgent  freedom  rarely  granted  to  children,  and  gave 
him  at  the  start  that  indejDendence  and  self-reliance 
which  he  preserved  through  life.  He  began  to  compose 
even  before  he  began  to  write  :  expression,  in  his  case, 
was  co-existent  with  feeling  and  thought.  Before  he 
was  twelve  years  old,  he  planned  and  partly  wrote  a 
romance  which  illustrates  his  wonderful  acquirements. 
The  characters  are  seven  brothers  and  sisters,  scattered 
in  different  parts  of  Europe.  One  of  them  writes  in 
German,  one  in  French,  one  in  English,  one  in  Italian, 
one  in  Latin  and  Greek,  and  another  in  the  Jewish-Ger- 
man dialect.  The  study  of  the  latter  led  him  to  Hebrew, 
which  he  kept  up  long  enough  to  read  a  portion  of  the 
Bible.  At  an  age  when  most  boys  are  struggling  unwill- 
ingly with  the  rudiments  of  knowledge,  he  had  laid  a 
broad  basis  for  all  future  studies,  and  grasped  with  pas- 
sionate eagerness  every  opportunity  of  anticipating 
them.  There  have  been  similar  instances  of  precocity, 
but  the  informing  and  mastering  genius  was  lacking. 
The  boy  Goethe  assimilated  and  turned  to  immediate 
use  all  that  he  learned.  His  creative  power  was  devel- 
oped many  years  in  advance  of  the  usual  period.  He 
soon  became  a  hero  in  the  youthful  society  of  Frankfort 


OOETEE.  307 

— a  poet,  an  improvisatore  and  a  wit,  astonishing  his 
associates  by  his  brilliancy  and  daring,  and  at  the  same 
time  offending  his  stern,  respectable  father. 

In  1765,  at  the  age  of  sixteen,  he  was  sent  to  the  Uni- 
versity of  Leipzig,  to  study  jurisprudence  ;  but  he  soon 
wearied  of  that  study,  as  well  as  of  logic  and  rhetoric, 
as  they  were  then  taught.  Except  botany  and  mineral- 
ogy, he  neglected  all  graver  studies,  gave  up  much  of 
his  time  to  society,  and  imagined  himself  in  love  with  a 
maiden  two  or  three  years  older  than  himself.  His  life 
at  Leipzig,  it  must  be  confessed,  was  very  wild  and 
irregular.  The  scornful  independence  of  others,  which 
he  asserted,  began  to  show  itself  in  excesses,  and  at  the 
end  of  three  years  he  went  home  with  hemorrhage  of 
the  lungs  and  a  tumor  on  his  neck.  More  than  a  year 
was  needed  for  his  entire  recovery,  and  during  this 
period  the  better  forces  of  his  nature  began  to  assert 
themselves.  He  regained  his  lost  balance  :  his  literary 
aspirations  revived,  and  gradually  grew  into  earnestness 
and  coherence. 

In  his  twenty-first  year  he  was  sent  to  Strassburg,  to 
continue  his  legal  studies,  but  already  carrying  with 
him  the  plan  of  his  first  famous  work — the  tragedy  of 
"  Gotz  von  BerlicUngeny  During  the  seclusion  of  his 
illness,  he  had  occupied  himself  chiefly  with  alchemy 
and  mystic  speculation.  The  seed  of  the  future  "  Faust'* 
was  even  then  sown,  and  it  was  not  long  before  it  began 
to  germinate.     But  the  greatest  fortune  of  his  residence 


308  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

in  Strassburg  was  his  acquaintance  with  Herder,  who  was 
five  years  older  than  Goethe,  and  at  that  time  of  a  graver 
and  profounder  temperament.  The  two  men  were  very 
much  unlike,  and  they  never  became  intimate  friends ; 
but  there  is  no  doubt  that  Herder's  companionship  and 
counsel,  during  the  six  months  they  spent  together,  was 
of  great  value  in  weaning  Goethe  from  the  lawless,  im- 
pulsive mood  into  which  he  had  fallen.  He  was  sud- 
denly seized  with  a  desire  to  overcome  everything  which 
seemed  like  a  weakness  in  his  nature.  He  cured  his 
tendency  to  giddiness,  on  looking  down  from  heights, 
by  climbing  the  spire  of  Strassburg  Cathedral  every 
day.  He  had  a  constitutional  dread  of  the  super- 
natural, without  believing  in  it ;  so  he  went  into  grave- 
yards at  midnight ;  he  disliked  loud  voices,  and  there- 
fore v»  ent  as  near  as  possible  to  the  drums  of  the  mili- 
tary band.  He  was  easily  affected  by  a  sense  of  disgust, 
and  for  that  reason  attended  the  dissections  of  the  medi- 
cal class.  He  also  studied  electricity,  wrote  a  pamphlet 
on  Gothic  architecture,  and  withal,  qualified  himself  for 
the  degree  of  Doctor  Juris,  which  he  received  in  a  little 
more  than  a  year.  Keturning  to  Frankfort,  he  first 
re-wrote  the  tragedy  of  "  Gofz  von  Berlicldngen,''  and 
was  then  sent  by  his  father  to  practice  in  the  Imperial 
Chancery  at  Wetzlar,  a  small  town  near  Giessen.  But 
he  remained  there  only  a  few  months,  occupying  him- 
self much  more  with  literature  than  with  law.  His 
tragedy  was  again  revised,  and  was  then  published  in 


GOETHE.  309 

the  spring  of  1773.  Its  popularity  was  immediate  and 
universal.  Compared  with  Schiller's  "  Bobbers,"  pro- 
duced at  very  nearly  the  same  age,  every  reader  will 
feel  the  great  superiority  of  "  Gotzy  Here  there  is 
nothing  crude,  and  little  that  is  purely  subjective.  The 
piece  is  full  of  life  and  movement,  and  the  touch  of  a 
master  is  seen  in  the  delineation  of  every  character. 
In  regard  to  form,  Goethe  undoubtedly  owed  something 
both  to  Shakespeare  and  Lessing,  but  his  management 
of  the  historic  material  is  entirely  his  own.  His  lite- 
rary fame  was  secured  at  one  blow.  It  is  worthy  of  re- 
mark that  the  translation  of  *'  Gotz  von  Beyiichingen" 
was  Waiter  Scott's  first  essay  in  literature. 

The  attention  of  such  men  as  Zimmermann,  Lavater, 
and  Klopstock  was  attracted  towards  Goethe  by  this 
work.  His  name  began  to  be  known  throughout  Ger- 
many :  he  was  astonished  at  his  sudden  popularity,  and 
considered  it,  at  first,  a  lucky  accident.  Soon  after  the 
publication  of  "  Gotz,''  the  young  prince  Karl  August 
of  Weimar  passed  through  Frankfurt,  and  sent  for 
Goethe.  This  was  the  beginning  of  a  friendship  which 
lasted  for  fifty-five  years,  and  determined  the  external 
circumstances  of  Goethe's  life.  Law  was  now  entirely 
given  up,  and  Goethe,  again  an  inmate  of  his  father's 
house  for  two  or  three  years,  gave  all  his  time  to  litera- 
ture. He  planned  a  tragedy  to  be  called  " Mohammed" 
a  fragment  of  which  survives,  wrote  several  admirable 
lyrics,  and  produced  his  satire,  called  "Gottery  Hddefn 


310  GERMAN  LITEHATURE. 

mid  WidaiKV  (Gods,  Heroes,  and  Wieland).  In  1774, 
two  years  after  the  events  upon  wliicli  the  book  is 
founded  had  occurred,  he  published  ^' Die  Leiden  des 
jungen  Wertliers  "  (The  Sorrows  of  Werther).  The  history 
of  this  work,  the  prodigious  sensation  which  it  pro- 
duced, and  the  character  of  its  influence  contrasted 
with  the  author's  design,  make  it  a  phenomenon  in  the 
annals  of  literature.  The  "Storm  and  Stress"  period, 
to  which  I  have  referred,  was  then  apjDroaching  its  cli- 
max. Although  "  Gotz  von  Berliclmujen  "  is  remarkably 
free  from  its  sjDirit,  Goethe  could  no  more  escaj^e  the 
infection  than  a  child  can  escape  the  mumps  or  the 
measles.  His  powerful  nature  experienced  every  symp- 
tom of  the  disease  in  an  aggravated  form,  and  then  healed 
itself.  Although  no  poet  ever  made  freer  use  of  his  own 
sensations  and  experiences — his  joy,  suffering,  passion 
and  aspiration — yet  his  habit  was  to  wait  until  the  ex- 
perience had  passed,  then  holding  it  firmly  apart  from 
him — as  a  man  might  hold  an  amputated  limb,  wherein 
every  nerve  is  dead — to  make  it  an  intellectual  study. 
He  revives  the  tempest,  and  lets  it  rage  around  him  ;  but 
in  the  centre  there  is  a  vortex  of  calm,  where  he  sits  and 
controls  it.  "  Werther  "  is  a  psychological  study  of  this 
character.  Goethe  combined  his  own  experience  with 
the  tragical  fate  of  a  man  whom  he  knew,  and  produced 
what  is  generally  called  a  sentimental  story,  but  which 
is  really  a  remarkable  dissection  of  a  typical  character. 
But  it  was  not  so  received  and  understood.    All  Europe 


OOETHE.  311 

dissolved  in  a  gush  of  emotion  over  its  pages.  It  was 
hailed  as  the  triumph  and  justification  of  the  senti- 
mental school,  and  a  whole  literature  of  imitations, 
parodies  and  criticisms  followed  it. 

Although  we  cannot  divide  the  literary  life  of  Goethe 
into  periods,  like  that  of  Schiller,  because  his  growth  was 
not  only  steady  and  symmetrical,  but  also  because  some 
of  his  faculties  were  nearly  perfect  at  the  start,  yet  there 
are  occasional  pauses  in  his  activity  and  variations  in  its 
character.  The  one  important  change  in  his  external 
life  now  occurred.  In  September,  1775,  the  Duke  Karl 
August  invited  Goethe  to  visit  him  at  Weimar.  This 
visit,  which  lasted  two  months,  was  followed  by  an  invi- 
tation to  accept  a  permanent  situation  at  the  Court,  with 
the  title  of  Privy  Councillor,  and  a  salary  of  twelve 
hundred  thalers  a  year.  In  spite  of  his  father's  opposi- 
tion, Goethe  accepted  the  offer,  and  thenceforth  Weimar 
was  his  home.  The  appointment  of  an  untitled  poet  to 
a  place  which  tradition  required  to  be  filled  only  by  a 
noble,  was  a  great  scandal  throughout  Germany ;  but 
the  wild  and  rather  grotesque  life  led  by  the  Duke  and 
Goethe  gave  much  greater  offence.  Their  chief  object 
seemed  to  be,  to  violate  all  the  sacred  conventionalities 
of  German  courts.  They  appeared  in  society  in  top- 
boots,  cracked  whips  together  in  the  public  market- 
place, plunged  into  the  river  Ilm  at  midnight,  and  con- 
ducted themselves  altogether  more  like  boys  playing 
truant  than  a  pair  of  dignified  personages.     For  some 


312  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

years  Goetke's  productiveness  slackened,  because  there 
was  now  no  external  incitement,  and  the  internal  im- 
pulse gave  way,  for  a  time,  to  his  hearty  delight  in 
active  physical  life.  It  was  his  habit  to  carry  a  poetical 
conception  for  a  long  time  in  his  brain,  allowing  it  to 
develop  by  its  own  force,  until  the  proper  mood  and 
leisure  for  its  delivery  arrived:  then  it  was  put  into 
words  with  a  rapidity  and  artistic  completion  which 
astonished  his  friends,  who  did  not  guess  how  much  of 
the  labor  had  been  silently  performed  in  advance.  So, 
now,  while  he  seemed  indolent,  the  dramatic  poems  of 
"  IlMgenie  auf  Tauris''  "  Tasso,'^  and  " Egmont^^  were 
in  progress,  and  portions  of  the  first  two  were  even 
written  in  prose.  After  three  years  of  free,  unrestrained 
life  with  the  Duke,  he  began  to  weary  of  balls,  hunts 
and  picnics,  and  withdrew  more  and  more  from  the 
society  of  the  Court.  He  was  eight  years  older  than 
the  Duke,  and  "  the  intoxication  of  youth  "  (to  use  his 
own  words)  was  over  with  him  that  much  earlier.  The 
inseparable  companionship  was  broken  off,  although 
the  Duke  was  steadfast  in  his  friendship.  In  1782, 
Goethe  was  made  President  of  the  Chamber,  and  en- 
nobled. The  death  of  his  father,  in  the  same  year, 
having  made  him  comparatively  wealthy,  he  deter- 
mined to  carry  out  his  long-cherished  plan  of  a  jour- 
ney to  Italy ;  but  four  years  still  intervened  before 
he  succeeded  in  leaving  Weimar.  During  this  time  he 
began  to  .write  his  jDhilosophical  romance  of  "  Wilhdm 


GOETHE.  313 

Meister,''  which  was  not  published  until  long  after- 
wards. 

At  last,  in  1786,  secretly  and  under  an  assumed  name, 
he  set  out  for  Italy,  where  he  remained  for  nearly  two 
years,  residing  alternately  in  Venice,  Florence,  Kome, 
Naples  and  Sicily.  It  aj)pears  to  have  been  a  period 
of  pure  and  perfect  enjoyment.  After  ten  years  of  dis- 
tractions, his  time  was  wholly  his  own.  He  practised 
painting,  for  which  he  always  had  a  passion,  studied 
classic  art,  correcting  and  elevating  thereby  his  poetic 
ideal,  and  worked  faithfully  upon  the  plans  he  had  car- 
ried with  him.  The  "  Ipliigenie  auf  Taiiris  "  and  "  Eg- 
mont "  were  completed,  and  "  Tasso  "  commenced,  before 
he  visited  Sicily.  I  have  seen  an  original  manuscrij)t 
letter,  which  he  wrote  from  Naples  to  his  servant  in 
Weimar,  giving  as  minute  and  enthusiastic  an  account 
of  his  literary  labors,  as  if  it  had  been  written  to  a 
brother  author.  His  little  song  of  "  Kenmt  clu  das 
Land''  expresses  the  strength  of  the  longing  which 
drew  him  to  Italy,  and  he  was  not  deceived  in  the 
real  experience.  When,  in  1788,  he  left  Italy  to 
return  to  Weimar,  it  was  with  a  feeling  of  regret  so 
strong  that  he  was  positively  unhaj^py  for  months 
afterwards. 

The  "  Iphigenie  auf  Tauris,"  which  now  appeared,  is 
one  of  the  noblest  dramatic  poems  in  any  language.  As 
Schiller  truly  said,  it  is  not  Greek,  but  neither  can  it 
be  called  German.     It  moves  in  a  higher  region  than 


314  GERMAN  LITER ATUBE. 

tliat  wliere  the  signs  of  time  and  race  may  still  be  read 
From  tlie  opening  lines  : 

"  Hinaus  in  eu're  Schatten,  rege  Wipfel 
Des  alten,  lieil'gen,  dicht-belaubten  Haines/* 

to  tlie  closing  farewell  of  Thoas,  the  reader  breathes 
the  purest  ether  of  poetry.  Its  grandeur  is  inherent  in 
the  lines,  and  its  finest  passages  seem  to  exist  of  them- 
selves, rather  than  to  have  been  elaborated  by  the 
thought  of  years.  It  is  a  poem  in  dramatic  form,  not  a 
drama ;  and  the  same  distinction  will  apply  to  "  Tasso.^^ 
Neither  is  adapted  to  the  stage.  "  fyhigenie''  was  act- 
ed by  the  Court  at  Weimar,  Goethe  taking  the  part  of 
Orestes,  and  the  Duke  that  of  Pylades  ;  but  at  Weimar 
Sophocles  was  performed, — the  high  cultivation  which 
prevailed  there  rendering  even  that  possible.  "  Tasso  " 
may  also  be  called  a  psychological  study.  It  is  almost 
without  action,  and  is  monotonous  in  tone,  but  it 
abounds  in  fine  passages.  It  is  a  poem,  however,  which 
will  never  be  generally  appreciated,  except  by  poets. 
In  "  Egmont "  Goethe  achieved  a  theatrical  success. 
This  tragedy  is  still  more  frequently  performed  than 
any  of  his  other  dramas. 

Three  such  works  as  these  should  have  placed  Goethe 
at  once  at  the  head  of  German  literature  ;  but  they  seem 
to  have  made  an  impression  upon  a  comparatively  small 
number,  at  the  time  of  their  appearance.  The  author's 
genius  was  felt  everywhere,  but  it  disturbed  to  a  greater 


OOETHE.  315 

extent  than  it  gave  delight.  He  stood  almost  alone  : 
Klopstock  was  unfriendly,  Herder  was  jealous  and  sen- 
sitive, Schiller  was  still  shy  and  doubtful,  and  Wieland, 
who  never  was  else  than  a  large-hearted  friend,  could 
give  him  no  satisfactory  support.  Although,  fifteen 
years  before,  the  nerves  of  all  Europe  had  been  shat- 
tered by  his  "  JVerfher,''  and  his  name  was  as  well 
known  as  that  of  Eousseau  or  Voltaire,  yet,  when  the 
collected  edition  of  his  works  was  published  in  Leipzig, 
in  1790,  —  an  edition  containing  "  Gotz,''  ^'IjMgenie'' 
"  Tasso;'  "  Fgmoiit;'  much  of  the  First  Part  of  "  Faust,'' 
and  his  exquisite  songs  and  lyrics — the  publisher  com- 
plained that  the  sale  was  not  sufficient  to  pay  his  ex- 
penses !  Those  whom  he  had  offended,  or  who  were 
jealous  of  his  genius  or  his  fortune,  now  formed  quite 
a  large  class,  including  many  authors  in  the  flush  of  a 
transient  popularity.  He  never  betrayed  his  feelings 
in  such  matters,  but  it  is  evident  that  his  exclusive 
devotion  to  science  for  some  years  was  partly  the  con- 
sequence of  a  discouragement  in  regard  to  his  literary 
work.  It  is  hardly  within  my  province,  at  present,  to 
speak  of  Goethe  as  a  man  of  science,  but  I  may  at  least 
mention  that  his  studies  in  osteology  had  already  re- 
sulted in  his  discovery  of  the  inter-maxillary  bone ; 
that  his  studies  in  botany  led  him  to  the  composition 
of  a  really  important  work  on  the  "  Metamorphoses  of 
Plants,"  and  that  his  "  Science  of  Colors  "  was  for  a 
while  accepted  (though  not  generally  by  opticians)  as 


316  GERMAN  LITEM ATURE. 

having  superseded  Newton's.  He  was  an  eager  if  not 
a  very  thorough  observer  ;  but,  being  a  poet,  he  was 
sometimes  inclined  to  de23end  rather  on  his  scientific 
intuitions  than  on  the  laborious  observation  of  Nature. 
In  this  respect  he  differed  from  Humboldt,  while  he 
resembled  him  in  his  insatiable  thirst  for  knowledge 
and  his  untiring  industry.  We  cannot  say  that  the 
time  he  devoted  to  natural  science  was  lost,  even  if  it 
had  been  less  fruitful  in  results,  for  at  the  same  time 
he  made  himself  acquainted  with  the  metaphysical  sys- 
tems of  Kant,  Fichte  and  Hegel,  and  all  those  bones 
and  stones  kept  him  close  to  solid  fact  while  his  mind 
was  occupied  with  pure  intellectual  speculations.  He 
was  never  German  enough  to  lose  his  way  in  those 
misty  realms,  yet  it  was  certainly  an  advantage  to  have 
a  basis  of  reality  under  his  feet. 

In  1794,  nearly  six  years  after  Goethe's  first  interview 
with  Schiller,  the  two  came  together  again — this  time, 
only  to  be  separated  by  death.  It  was  not  long  before 
the  effect  of  this  close  intercourse  with  another  spirit, 
as  restlessly  creative  as  his  own,  began  to  show  itself 
in  Goethe's  return  to  poetry.  He  was  then  about  pub- 
lishing the  first  part  of  "  JVilhelm  3Ieister  " — the  "  LeJir- 
jalire''  or  "Apprenticeship," — and  Schiller's  friendly 
intelligent  criticism  of  the  work  in  manuscript  was  an 
encouragement  which  he  had  not  felt  for  years.  This 
work,  which  has  been  admirably  translated  by  Carlyle, 
might  be  called  a  philosophical  romance.     It  is  a  sin- 


GOETHE.  317 

gular  compound  of  pictures  of  life,  so  plain  and  realistic 
that  they  sometimes  become  actually  coarse,  with  theo- 
ries of  society,  labor  and  education  so  refined  that  they 
frequently  lose  all  practical  character.  The  faults  of 
the  work  are  as  positive  as  its  beauties ;  but  it  had  no 
antety23e  in  literature.  Parts  of  it,  such  as  the  episode 
of  Mignon,  the  criticism  on  Hamlet,  and  the  detached 
aphorisms  scattered  through  it,  are  generally  known 
and  admired,  but  the  work,  as  a  whole,  is  only  relished 
by  those  readers  who  are  able  to  think  for  themselves 
while  they  follow  the  thoughts  of  another.  By  a  large 
class  it  is  considered  immoral,  because  some  of  the 
characters  introduced  are  not  always  better  than  they 
.should  be.  The  best  answer  to  this  charge  is  given  by 
one  of  Goethe's  most  intelligent  critics.  "  In  '  Wilhelm 
3Ieisfer,'  "  he  says,  "  there  is  a  complete  absence  of 
all  moral  verdict  on  the  part  of  the  author.  Charac- 
ters tread  the  stage,  events  pass  before  our  eyes,  things 
are  done,  and  thoughts  are  expressed ;  but  no  word 
comes  from  the  author  respecting  the  moral  bearing  of 
those  things.  Life  forgets  in  activity  all  moral  verdict. 
The  good  is  beneficent,  but  no  one  praises  it ;  the  bad 
works  evil,  but  no  one  anathematizes  it."  This  descrip- 
tion is  entirely  correct,  and  it  v/ould  apply  equally  to 
much  of  Shakespeare.  Our  American  taste  of  the  pres- 
ent day  would  hardly  be  satisfied  with  a  fiction,  wherein 
the  good  and  the  bad  characters  are  simply  presented, 
as  we  see  them  in  ordinary  life.     An  author's  princij)les 


318  QEB3IAN  LITERATURE. 

are  suspected  unless  he  denounces  the  one  and  praises 
the  other, — or,  at  least,  heightens  the  colors  so  that  we 
shall  detect  the  undercurrent  of  his  own  preferences. 
No  man,  however,  will  ever  read  "  Wilhelm  Meister  "  as 
he  reads  a  certain  class  of  modern  romances,  for  the 
sake  of  gratifying  an  immoral  taste  :  to  all  except  per- 
sons of  genuine  intellect  and  culture,  it  is  a  sealed  book. 
Another  result  of  Goethe's  intercourse  with  Schiller 
was  the  re-awakening  of  his  lyrical  genius.  He  himself 
compares  the  effect  upon  his  poetic  faculty  to  that  of  a 
second  spring,  w^herein  a  thousand  germs  of  thought, 
long  lying  dormant,  suddenly  sprouted  and  blossomed. 
A  conception  which  once  entered  his  brain  never  was 
forgotten.  Even  the  idea  of  a  simple  little  ballad  would 
linger  with  him  for  years.  So  when  Schiller  and  he 
agreed  to  write  a  number  of  brief  narrative  poems,  he 
had  only  to  free  his  mind  of  the  material  which  had 
already  accumulated  there.  Some  of  his  finest  and 
most  celebrated  poems — such  as  "  Die  Braid  von  Cor- 
intV  (The  Bride  of  Corinth),  "i>er  Gott  und  die 
Bajaclere"  (The  God  and  the  Bayadere),  "Ber  Fischer" 
(The  Fisher),  and  "  Der  Erlhonig''  (The  Erl-King)  were 
written  at  this  time.  He  also  arranged  for  Schiller's 
periodical,  "  The  Hours,"  two  collections  of  short  epi- 
grammatic poems,  written  in  the  classic  distich,  and 
called  ''Die  Bomischen  Elegien''  (The  Eoman  Elegies) 
and  ''Die  Vier  Jahreszeiten''  (The  Four  Seasons).  These 
are   ma^sterpieces  of    poetic  art.     They,  and  Schiller's 


OOETHE.  319 

noble  poem  of  "  Der  Sioaziergang  "  have  naturalized  the 
ancient  elegiac  measure  in  the  German  language.  The 
onlj  successful  English  example  I  know  of,  is  in  the 
short  introductory  passages  of  Clough's  "  Amours  de 
Voyage."  I  cannot  resist  the  temptation  of  quoting  a 
few  couplets  from  the  "  Jahreszeiten  "  : 


Auf,  ilir  Distichen,  frisch  !     Ilir  mantern  lebendigen  Knaben  1 
Reicli  ist  Garten  und  Feld  !    Blumen  zum  Kranze  herbei  I 

3. 

Reicb  ist  an  Blumen  die  Flur  ;  docli  einige  sind  nur  dem  Auge, 
Andre  dem  Herzen  nur  scbon  ;  wilble  dir,  Leser,  nun  selbst  1 


Rosenknospe,  du  bist  dem  bllilienden  Madclien  gewidmet, 
Die  als  die  Herrlichste  sich,  als  die  Bescheidenste  zeigt. 


Viele  der  Veilclien  zusammen  gekniipft,  das  Strausscben  erscheint 
Erst  als  Blume ;  du  bist,  bausliches  Madcben,  gemeint. 

5. 

Eine  kannt'  icb,  sie  war  wie  die  Lilie  schlank,  und  ihr  Stolz  war 
Unschuld ;  berrlicber  bat  Salomo  Keine  gesebn, 

6. 

Scbon  erbebt  sicb  der  Agley  und  senkt  das  Kopfcben  berunter. 
IstesGefiibl?   oder  ist's  Muthwill  ?    Ibr  ratbet  es  nicbt." 

I  regret  that  I  cannot  find  a  translation  of  "  The  God 
and  the  Bayadere  "  which  at  all  reproduces  its  compact 
power  of  expression  and  its  majestic  rhythm  ;  indeed, 
these  minor  poems  of  Goethe  almost  defy  translation. 


320  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

In  many  of  them  tlie  sentiment  is  as  airy  and  delicate, 
the  charm  as  easy  to  feel  and  as  difficult  to  define,  as  in 
the  songs  of  Shakespeare.  His  mastery  over  all  the 
powers  and  possibilities  of  the  language  was  so  marvel- 
ous, that  an  almost  equal  mastery  of  the  resources  of 
the  English  language  is  required  in  one  who  attempts 
to  reproduce  them. 

A  few  years  ago,  among  the  correspondence  of  the 
publisher  Yieweg,  of  Brunswick,  a  letter  of  Goethe's  was 
found,  consisting  of  these  two  sentences:  "If  you  are 
willing  to  publish  the  contents  of  the  accompanying 
sealed  package,  send  me  two  hundred  ducats  (about 
eight  hundred  dollars).  If  you  decline,  return  the  pack- 
age with  the  seals  unbroken."  This  was  a  hard  condi- 
tion for  the  publisher  :  he  deliberated  a  day  or  two, 
then  sent  the  two  hundred  ducats,  and  opened  the 
package.  It  contained  the  pastoral  epic  of  "  Hermann 
und  Dorothea,'''  one  of  Goethe's  most  perfect  works.  We 
happen  to  know,  through  his  correspondence  with 
Schiller  and  others,  the  manner  in  which  it  was  written. 
Goethe  had  finished  the  "  ^c/z27?eis,"  which  we  can  only 
call  an  imitation  of  Homer,  and  was  encouraged  by 
Schiller  to  write  a  poem  on  the  subject  of  Nausikaa, 
But  the  work  dragged :  by  a  sudden  revulsion  of  feel- 
ing, Goethe  turned  to  the  life  of  his  own  day,  took  up 
a  subject  which  had  been  waiting  six  or  seven  years  in 
his  brain,  planned  and  arranged  it  during  his  official 
journeys  through  the  Ducliy,  and  then  wrote  it  in  the 


GOETHE.  321 

course  of  a  few  weeks  of  summer  leisure.  "We  have  liis 
own  word  for  the  statement  that  more  than  half  of  it 
was  written  in  nine  consecutive  days.  It  was  one  of 
his  most  fortunate  inspirations.  The  perplexed  pub- 
lisher was  lucky  in  his  venture,  for  the  poem  not  only 
revived  Goethe's  popularity,  but  stamped  upon  the 
literary  circles  of  Germany  the  impression  of  his  true 
power.  "  Hermann  and  Dorothea  "  is  the  simplest  pos- 
sible idyl  of  common  life.  The  characters  of  the  par- 
ents, the  young  man  and  the  maiden,  the  clergyman 
and  the  apothecary  are  drawn  with  exquisite  truth  and 
reality ;  the  measure  is  fluent  as  prose,  yet  flatters  the 
ear  like  rhyme ;  the  language  is  the  simplest  possible, 
poetic  in  its  essence,  not  from  ornament,  and  the  events 
of  the  story,  occupying  not  more  than  two  days,  are  so 
naturally  and  artlessly  evolved,  that  the  reader  follows 
them  with  pure  and  perfect  enjoyment,  from  beginning 
to  end.  I  care  not  what  may  be  said  against  the  use 
of  hexameter  in  modern  literature  :  in  "  Hermann  and 
Dorothea"  it  is  a  thorough  success.  Goethe  under- 
stood, as  many  poets  do  not,  the  importance  of  form 
as  a  vehicle  of  thought.  With  all  his  acquired  self- 
control,  his  intellectual  nature  was  as  sensitive  as  a 
wind-harp  to  the  lightest  breeze  of  imagination;  but 
he  had  the  power  of  retaining  every  passing  strain, 
every  fugitive  tone,  until  they  grew  to  a  connected 
melody.  Then  he  sought  for  the  one  form  which  might 
most  fitly  express  it,  very  much  as  the  sculptor  seeks 
14* 


322  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

for  a  living  model,  to  assist  in  bringing  out  the  ideal 
figure  in  his  brain.  He  never  lost  sight  of  the  real 
truth  of  Nature,  but  the  commonest  scenes  and  events, 
in  passing  through  his  mind  are  saturated  with  a  subtle 
element  of  poetry.  This  is  nowhere  so  wonderfully 
illustrated  as  in  "  Hermann  and  Dorothea,"  and  we  can 
readily  understand  that  it  was  that  one  of  his  works  to 
which  he  turned  with  the  most  satisfaction  in  his  old  age. 

After  Schiller's  death,  in  1805,  Goethe  lost  for  a  time 
his  interest  in  literature.  Within  a  year  and  a  half  the 
battle  of  Jena  occurred,  and  "Weimar  was  sacked  by  the 
French  army.  It  was  perhaps  the  insecurity  of  his  life 
at  the  time  which  led  him  to  marry  the  mother  of  his 
son,  with  whom  he  had  been  living  for  seventeen  years 
. — or,  rather,  the  sense  of  insecurity  led  her  to  consent 
to  the  marriage,  which  she  had  refused  up  to  that  time. 
Nothing  in  Goethe's  life  has  been  so  misunderstood 
and  misrepresented  as  his  relation  to  Christiane  Yul- 
pius.  "When  I  was  last  in  Weimar,  I  discovered  a  great 
many  facts  which  throw  an  entirely  new  light  on  this 
subject.  Christiane  was  an  uneducated  woman,  from  a 
much  lower  rank  in  society ;  but  she  understood  Goethe's 
nature  as  no  one  else  did. 

Goethe's  first  important  work,  after  the  death  of 
Schiller,  was  his  novel  of  the  "  Wahlverwandtschaften" 
which  has  been  translated  "  The  Elective  Affinities." 
It  is  much  more  compact,  and,  as  a  story,  more  co- 
herent than  "  Wilhdra  3Ieiste7\"     His  scientific  pursuits 


GOETHE.  323 

absorbed  a  great  deal  of  liis  time  during  tlie  early  years 
of  this  century,  but  lie  found  time  to  write  an  autobi- 
ography under  tlie  title  of  "  Walirlieit  unci  Dichtiing " 
(Truth  and  Fiction),  and  in  his  sixty-fifth  year  com- 
menced the  study  of  the  Persian  and  the  Arabic  lan- 
guages. At  a  time  when  the  world  supposed  that  the 
period  of  his  poetic  activity  was  over,  his  "  West- 
Ostlicher  Divan,''  suddenly  appeared.  It  is  a  collec- 
tion of  short  poems,  two  or  three  hundred  in  num- 
ber, German  in  spirit  and  Oriental  in  character.  In 
them  the  fire  of  a  second  youth  glows  and  throbs 
through  the  wisdom  of  age.  Some  of  the  most  beauti- 
ful brief  lyrics  he  ever  wrote  are  contained  in  this  col- 
lection. This  was  the  source  whence  Count  Platen  and 
Riickert  drew  their  Oriental  inspiration.  The  impression 
it  produced  was  so  strong  that  it  almost  created  a  new 
fashion  in  literature.  By  this  time  Goethe  had  outlived 
the  jealousy  and  the  enmity  which  had  so  long  assailed 
him.  Kotzebue  was  powerless  ;  Novalis  and  Nicolai 
were  dead  ;  Schlegel  was  silent ;  the  Stolbergs  were  for- 
gotten ;  and  a  new  generation  had  grown  up,  to  whom 
the  poet  was  an  acknowledged  power.  The  race  was  not 
yet  sufficiently  developed  to  appreciate  his  best  work, 
but  they  could  reverence  without  reaching  that  point. 
He  had  also  withdrawn  from  official  duties.  His  time 
was  his  own  ;  society  came  to  him  at  his  own  conveni- 
ence, and  his  life  thenceforth  was  quiet,  serene,  yet  still 
unweariedly  active. 


324  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

He  conducted  a  periodical  called  "  Kunst  und  AUer- 
thum,"  (Art  and  Antiquity),  and  wrote  a  number  of 
scientific  essays,  but  undertook  no  larger  work  until 
after  his  seventietli  year,  when  he  completed  "  JVilhelm 
Meister.''  From  his  seventy-fifth  to  his  eighty-first 
year,  he  wrote  the  Second  Part  of  '^  Faust j"  dictated 
his  "Annals,"  and  revised  the  complete  edition  of  his 
works,  in  forty  volumes.  It  is  a  remarkable  fact,  show- 
ing the  little  protection  accorded  to  literature  in  Ger- 
many during  the  lives  of  her  greatest  authors,  that  this 
complete  edition  could  only  be  secured  against  reprints 
by  other  publishers,  through  a  sj)ecial  act  of  the  Ger- 
man Diet,  which  was  granted  in  1826.  It  is  doubtful 
whether  Goethe  received  more  than  twenty  or  thirty 
thousand  dollars  from  his  works  during  the  whole  of 
his  life ;  but  his  grand-children  received  fortunes  from 
them. 

The  end  came  slowly  on,  like  the  sinking  of  the  sun, 
in  a  cloudless  sky.  In  1828  the  Duke,  Karl  August, 
died ;  soon  after,  his  widow,  the  Duchess  Luise ;  then, 
Goethe's  only  son,  and  he  was  left  alone,  still  grand 
and  erect  in  body,  and  with  every  sign  of  intellectual 
vigor.  He  was  one  of  the  handsomest  men  that  ever 
lived  :  the  bust  taken  in  Eome  is  finer  than  the  head  of 
the  Apollo.  Even  eighty  years  could  not  bend  his  figure 
or  dim  the  splendor  of  his  dark-brown  eyes :  the  Apollo 
had  only  grown  into  the  Olympian  Jove.  Eiickert,  in 
a  noble  poem,  wished  for  him  the  fate  of  the  Persian 


GOETHE.  325 

poets,  Saadi  and  Djami,  who  counted  a  liundred  years, 
but  some  hidden  part  of  the  machinery  had  worn  out, 
and  a  very  slight  cause  brought  it  to  a  full  stop.  He 
died  on  the  22d  of  March,  1832,  in  his  eighty-third 
year. 

Karl  August  directed  in  his  will,  that  his  body  should 
be  placed  between  those  of  Goethe  and  Schiller.  This 
was  more  than  the  rigid  laws  of  German  Courts  could 
endure  :  the  will  was  disregarded.  The  two  poets  rest 
side  by  side,  in  the  Ducal  vault,  but  at  a  proper  dis- 
tance from  the  reigning  family.  Yet  their  sarcophagi, 
and  that  of  their  one  princely  friend,  are  those  which 
draw  reverent  strangers  to  the  vault,  and  which  are 
always  freshly  crowned  with  garlands. 

In  comparing  Goethe  with  Homer  and  Shakespeare,  I 
mean  to  assert  his  equal  and  independent  supremacy, 
without  claiming  for  him  precisely  the  qualities  which 
made  them  great.  In  intellectual  character,  he  is  as  far 
removed  from  either  as  each  is  from  the  other.  Homer 
is  specially  epic,  Shakespeare  sj^ecially  dramatic,  and 
in  Goethe  we  find  the  highest  equal  development  of  all 
the  powers  of  the  human  mind.  The  word  "  many- 
sided,"  which  the  Germans  apply  to  him,  is  not  an  ade- 
quate description.  The  general  rule  among  men  seems 
to  be  that  achievement  is  the  result  of  concentrated 
effort  in  one  direction.  Goethe  reversed  this  rule  ;  the 
broader  his  field  of  action  became,  the  more  splendid 
was  his  achievement.     One  cause  of  this  phenomenon 


326  GEBMAy  LITEBATUBE. 

will  be  found  in  a  quality  whicli  formed  tlie  very  basis 
of  liis  nature.  He  was  never  satisfied  until  lie  had  as- 
certained the  positive  reality  of  tlie  subject  of  his 
thought,  and  its  possible  relations  to  other  realities. 
His  fancy  and  imagination  were  so  healthy  and  so 
proj)ortioned  to  his  perceptive  faculties,  that  their  ac- 
tivity was  only  exercised  upon  a  basis  of  real  form  or 
fact.  Those  vague  yet  splendid  moods  of  the  mind,  in 
which  some  poets  indulge,  were  never  known  to  Lim — 
or,  if  he  knew  them,  he  never  gave  them  expression. 
With  the  Swedish  Tegner,  he  believed  that 

*'  The  obscurely  uttered  is  tlie  obscurely  thought.'* 

We  find  the  same  realistic  element  in  other  poets,  but 
never  in  such  perfect  combination  with  the  highest 
qualities  of  the  imagination.  Edgar  Poe  thus  ad- 
dresses Science — 

"  true  daughter  of  old  Time  thou  art, 
Who  changest  all  things  with  thy  peering  eyes  I 
Why  prey'st  thou  thus  upon  the  Poet's  heart. 
Vulture,  whose  wings  are  dull  realities  ?  " 

and  this  is  a  sort  of  conventional  sentiment  with  all 
minor  poets.  Even  Schiller,  at  one  period  of  his  life, 
lamented — in  exquisite  verse,  it  is  true — the  dethrone- 
ment of  the  Ideal  by  the  Actual,  in  life.  Goethe,  how- 
ever, would  have  smiled,  and  answered  in  terms  like 
these :  ''  Science  is  truth  and  Poetry  is  truth  :  both 
are  infinite  and  inexhaustible  :  both  are  kindred  fields 


GOETHE.  327 

ttrougli  which  the  human  approaches  the  Divine  Mind, 
and  thej  can  never  be  antagonistic  in  a  healthy  nature. 
Poetry  is  not  an  exotic  plant,  brought  down  to  our  life 
from  some  warmer  region,  and  to  be  kept  alive  with  arti- 
ficial heat ;  it  springs  from  and  clothes  all  human  life 
with  color  and  sweetness,  as  grass  and  daisies  cover 
the  whole  earth."  Goethe  could  have  analyzed  the 
earth  in  which  the  rose  is  planted,  and  prepared  a 
mathematical  table  of  its  ingredients  ;  he  could  then 
have  dissected  the  rose  as  a  botanist,  showing  the  met- 
amorphoses by  which  the  stem  becomes*  the  leaf  and 
the  leaf  the  blossom ;  and  finally,  letting  Science  rest, 
while  Fancy  arose,  fresh  for  the  task,  he  could  embalm 
the  beauty  and  sentiment  of  the  rose  in  immortal 
verse. 

I  think  this  might  be  called  one  of  the  undeveloped 
qualities  of  Shakespeare.  The  point  wherein  the  two 
poets  touch  is  their  power  of  assimilating  all  their 
acquired  knowledge,  and  using  it  in  the  service  of 
poetry.  Neither  is  afraid  of  descending  to  the  com- 
monest and  coarsest  realism,  yet  either  can  soar  as 
lightly  as  a  lark  into  the  highest  and  purest  spiritual 
atmosphere.  Both  minds  claimed  the  largest  liberty, 
and  used  it  as  of  right.  They  walked  over  the  earth,  as 
if  bare-headed  and  bare-handed,  taking  the  brand  of 
the  sun,  the  dust  of  the  highway  and  the  beating  of  the 
storm  upon  their  brows — in  the  strongest  contrast  to 
those  minds  which  always  seem  to  go  abroad  in  white 


328  GEBMAN  LITERATURE. 

kid  gloves  and  patent-leatlier  boots,  with  an  umbrella 
for  the  sun  and  a  theoretical  Mackintosh  for  the  rain. 

There  is  another  sense  which  Shakes23eare  possessed 
by  nature,  and  could  only  develop  by  such  helps  as 
were  possible  in  his  life  ;  Avhile  Goethe,  possessing  it 
equally,  was  able,  through  his  greater  fortune,  to  bring 
it  to  the  highest  and  noblest  activity.  I  mean  that  ele- 
ment of  proj^ortion  which  was  first  discovered  by  the 
Greek  mind ;  that  adjustment  of  parts  to  the  whole,  of 
form  to  spirit,  which  we  call  the  artistic  sense.  While 
Shakespeare  was  poaching,  Goethe  was  reading  Win- 
ckelmann  and  Lessing ;  while  Shakespeare  was  specu- 
lating in  wool,  Goethe  was  studying  the  antique  mar- 
bles in  the  halls  of  the  Vatican :  while  Shakespeare  was 
desiring  "  this  man's  art  and  that  man's  scope,"  Goethe 
could  look  abroad  and  say :  *'  It  is  because  none  reach 
my  art  and  my  scope,  that  so  few  fully  comprehend 
me."  With  such  a  vast  variety  of  interests  as  he  main- 
tained throughout  his  whole  life,  many  of  his  lighter 
works  are  faulty  in  construction,  but  nothing  which 
matured  properly  in  his  mind  is  without  its  underlying 
law.  Indeed,  most  of  the  fragments  which  he  left  have 
the  roundness  and  the  polish  of  pebbles  of  thought, 
smoothed  by  attrition  in  the  strong  current  of  his  mind. 
This  is  not  mere  finish  ;  it  also  includes  fullness,  as  the 
veins  in  a  pebble  may  suggest  the  strata  in  a  quarry. 
Many  of  his  detached  utterances  thus  hint  of  a  broad 
back-ground  of  thought.     Take  a  single  one  as  a  speci- 


aOETHE.  32^ 

men,  though  I  must  cripple  its  force  by  turmng  it  into 
prose-  "Timid  wavering  of  nerveless  thouglit,  effemi- 
nate irresolution,  anxious  lamentation,  turn  away  no 
misfortune  from  thee,  cannot  liberate  thee.  To  hold 
one's  self  erect,  defying  all  forces,  never  swaymg,  show- 
ing original  strength,  brings  down  the  arms  of  the  Gods 

in  aid ! "  .  , -ii 

Here  is  another  :  "Impatience  is  of  no  service  :  still 
less  remorse.  The  latter  increases  the  offense-the 
former  creates  new  ones." 

I  have  purposely  compared  Goethe  with  Shakespeare 
in  these  two  particulars,  because  in  the  dramatic  pre- 
sentation of  character  he  is  inferior  to  that  greatest  of 
all  masters.     Shakespeare  is  universal  in  his  apprehen- 
sion of  human  nature  :  Goethe  is  universal  in  his  range  of 
intellectual  capacities  and  in  his  culture.   One  is  greater, 
the  other  is  riper.     Goethe  lacks  two  elements  of  suc- 
cess as  a  dramatist-inventive  genius  and  rapidity  of 
movement.     After  "  Egmont,"  which  was  an   effort  to 
overcome  his  natural  deficiencies,  but  which  cannot  be 
called  a  complete  success,  he  gave  more  attention  to 
dramatic  poems  than  to  acting  plays.     He  was  an  ad- 
mirable critic,  and  his  counsels  helped  to  make  Schil- 
ler's "  Wollenstdn"  what  it  is  ;  yet  it  is  doubtful  whe- 
ther the  material  of  "  WdU..stdnr  in  W^  own  hands, 
would  have  been  as  satisfactorily  modelled  as  by  Schil- 
ler    I  do  not  mean  to  undervalue  the  genius  which 
he' manifested  in  both   "  Qotz  von  Berlichingen"  and 


330  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

"  Egmont.'"  Tliej  are  very  important  works  ;  but  tliey 
lack  the  equal  power  and  completeness  of  such  poems 
as  " Ipldgenie  auf  Tanris"  or  "Hermann  imd  Dorothea." 
He  had  dramatic  genius;  he  had  the  power  of  illus" 
trating  by  the  force  of  contrast,  and  the  power  of  pre= 
senting  characters  in  their  proper  objective  independ- 
ence ;  yet  it  seems  that  there  were  differences  of  action 
in  the  combination  of  his  many  gifts.  In  other  words, 
certain  forms  of  activity  were  more  free  and  natural  to 
him  than  others.  It  would  have  been  a  miracle  if  this 
had  not  been  so. 

I  have  already  alluded  to  Goethe's  habit  of  using 
every  form  of  his  own  personal  experience  of  life,  but 
only  after  the  feeling  which  accompanied  it  had  become 
a  memory.     He  j^refaces  his  lyrics  with  the  couplet : 

Spjit  erklingt,  was  friili  erklang,      Early  sounds  that  eclio  long  : 
Qliickund  Ungliick  wirdGesang.      Joy  and  sorrow  turn  to  song. 

and  in  his  "  Trilogie  der  Leidenschaft  "  (Trilogy  of  Pas- 
sion), the  most  youthfully  fervid  poem  ever  written  by 
a  man  more  than  seventy  years  old,  are  the  lines  : 

Und  wenn  der  Mensch  in  seiner  While  men  their  torment  suffer, 
Qual  verstummt  and  are  dumb. 

Gab  mir  ein  Gott  zu  sagen,  was  A  God  gave  me  to  utter  mine  in 
ich  leide.  song. 

One  consequence  of  this  power  is  that  all  passion  in 
his  verse  obeys  the  supreme  law  of  proportion.  The 
keenest  emotions  are  expressed,  but  the  author  himself 


GOETHE.  331 

is  serene.  Calm  and  self-poised,  lie  paints  every  ecstasy 
or  every  pang  :  he  does  not  attempt  to  revive  the  feel- 
ing, only  to  remember  it.  You  cannot  imagine  his  eye 
"  rolling  in  a  fine  frenzy,"  as  he  writes — but  rather  the 
impartial  eye  of  a  spirit,  surveying  the  past  life  of 
earth.  Goethe  has  been  called  cold,  unsympathetic, 
selfish,  on  account  of  this  quality ;  and  I  must  admit 
that,  even  up  to  the  present  day,  a  large  class  of  per- 
sons are  unable  to  consider  it  in  any  other  light. 
There  are  a  great  many  who  hide  their  own  tears,  but 
expect  the  author  to  weep  in  public.  Now,  the  objec- 
tive treatment  of  one's  own  revelations  of  life,  or  of 
what  is  observed  in  the  lives  of  others,  is  the  highest 
achievement  of  literary  art.  Whatever  of  truth  is  thus 
presented,  has  a  general,  not  an  individual  significance ; 
and  the  truth  that  dwells  in  passion  cannot  be  clearly 
seen  while  the  air  of  poetry  is  thick  with  the  very  cloud 
and  storm  of  passion  itself.  All  strong  emotion  sus- 
pends the  impartial  activity  of  the  intellect ;  and  this  is 
the  reason  why  eloquence  is  so  rarely  impartial. 

Although  Goethe  possessed  this  intellectual  serenity, 
as  we  may  call  it,  his  finer  faculties  were  no  more  under 
control  than  in  the  case  of  less  gifted  authors.  He 
could  not  say  to  the  Ariel  of  his  imagination  "  Come  !  " 
and  he  came ;  but  was  obliged  to  wait  the  pleasure  of 
the  beautiful  sprite.  As  his  habit  was  to  arrange  the 
plan  of  a  poem,  in  all  its  parts,  before  putting  it  into 
words,  he  was  thus  able  to  work  upon  any  part  of  it, 


332  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

according  to  his  mood.  After  a  certain  amount  of  prog- 
ress was  made,  the  manuscript  sheets  were  stitched 
together,  the  parts  not  jet  written  being  filled  out 
with  blank  paper  of  a  different  color ;  and  as  often  as 
one  of  these  sheets  was  removed  and  the  manuscript 
inserted  in  its  place,  Goethe  felt  himself  freshly  encour- 
aged to  go  on  with  the  work.  He  was  accustom  3d  to  say 
at  such  times  :  "  I  not  only  know,  in  my  own  mind,  how 
much  I  have  added,  but  it  is  now  palpable  to  my  exter- 
nal senses."  There  could  not  be  a  better  illustration  of 
his  equal  use  of  the  Real  and  the  Ideal. 

It  is  not  incumbent  upon  me,  now,  to  enter  into  an  ex- 
amination of  Goethe's  occasional  shortcomings.  Every- 
body knows  that  Homer  sometimes  nods,  and  that 
Shakespeare  sometimes  rants  ;  and  the  admission  that 
Goethe  has  occasionally  mistaken  coarseness  for  satire, 
or  gravity  for  wisdom,  cannot  effect  his  supreme  place 
in  literature.  Had  he  not  possessed  a  remarkable 
power  of  self-restraint,  he  would  doubtless  have  sinned 
more  frequently.  His  position  at  Weimar,  for  the  first 
ten  years,  was  more  difficult  than  we  can  now  guess : 
when  it  had  been  stubbornly  acknowledged,  he  stood 
almost  alone  as  an  author  until  Schiller  came  to  his 
side :  during  the  excitement  which  followed  the  over- 
throw of  Napoleon,  he  was  denounced  as  an  enemy  of 
Germany  ;  and,  finally,  the  most  absolute  homage  came 
to  him  from  all  quarters,  giving  to  his  old  age  a  character 
of  literary  royalty  which  he  enjoyed  without  dispute. 


GOETHE.  333 

A  lesser  genius  would  have  been  affected  by  this  per- 
versity of  circumstances  ;  but  he,  "  standing  erect,  defy- 
ing all  forces,  never  swaying,  showing  original  strength, 
called  down  the  arms  of  the  gods  to  his  aid."  In  him, 
character  and  intellect  were  not  so  closely  united  as  in 
Lessing;  his  vital  power  overran  into  wayward  im- 
pulses in  his  early  years,  and  sometimes  broke  away 
from  his  control  in  later  life  :  but  we  must  judge  a  man, 
after  all,  as  much  by  what  he  restrains  himself  from 
doing,  as  by  wdiat  he  does,  and  Goethe  has  as  much 
right  to  the  plea  of  multum  dilexit  as  a  less  exalted  intel- 
ligence. As  a  mental  power,  he  was  splendidly  stead- 
fast. He  was  as  apt  at  detecting  shams  as  Carlyle,  but 
he  pierced  them  without  making  any  noise  about  it. 
So  far  as  he  assumes  to  teach  directly,  it  is  in  exact 
consonance  with  the  suggestions  of  all  his  highest 
works ;  he  preaches  independence,  self-reliance,  toler- 
ance, mutual  help,  cheerful  acceptance  of  every  fortune, 
growth  as  a  necessity  of  being,  and  knowledge  as  a  ne- 
cessity of  growth. 

In  the  poetic  appreciation  of  Nature,  Goethe  has 
scarcely  an  equal  among  modern  authors.  The  trans- 
fer to  natural  objects  of  the  poet's  sentiment — the  reflec- 
tion in  them  of  his  varying  moods — the  creation  of  a 
sentient  spirit  beneath  the  forms  of  the  visible  world — 
all  this  belongs  to  modern  literature.  In  English  lite- 
rature it  virtually  originated  with  Cowper,  was  con- 
tinued by  Wordsworth,  made   popular  by  Byron  and 


334  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

Shelley,  until  now  it  lias  become  the  inevitable  field 
which  all  young  authors  endeavor  to  tread.  But  Goethe 
was  before  Cowper  and  Wordsworth,  far  more  subtle 
and  intimate  than  the  former,  and  wholly  without  the 
air  of  purpose  which  we  cannot  help  feeling  in  many  of 
Wordsworth's  descriptive  passages.  Goethe  presents 
Nature  to  us,  not  in  a  mere  catalogue  of  forms,  but 
with  all  the  more  elusive  influences  which  come  to  us 
through  light  and  odor,  and  atmosphere  and  perspec- 
tive. If  my  space  allowed  me,  I  could  give  many  in- 
stances of  the  delicate  instinct  which  enables  him  to 
suggest  a  landscape  in  a  single  line,  to  give  us  the  very 
soul  of  natural  objects  by  phrases  so  simple  that  they 
startle  while  they  charm. 

I  have  not  before  referred  to  "  Faust,''  because  it  w^s 
only  finished  with  Goethe's  life  ;  the  Second  Part  was 
first  published  after  his  death.  Without  studying  both 
parts,  no  one  can  understand  the  author's  plan.  The 
First  Part,  alone,  is  a  sublime  dramatic  fragment — the 
whole  is  a  complete  and  wonderful  poem.  There  is 
nothing  in  the  literature  of  any  country  with  which 
we  can  fairly  compare  it.  There  is  no  other  poem, 
which,  like  this,  was  the  work  of  a  whole  life,  and 
which  so  deals  with  the  profoundest  problems  of  all 
life.  It  is  so  universally  comprehensive  that  every 
reader  finds  in  it  reflections  of  his  faith  and  philosophy. 
I  have  the  essay  of  a  French  critic,  who  proves  it  to  be 
a  gospel  of  Pantheism :  I  have  the  work  of  a  Catholic 


GOETHE.  335 

professor,  who  is  equally  sure  that  it  shows  Goethe's 
reverence  for  the  Church  of  Eome  :  I  have  the  work  of 
a  Lutheran  clergyman,  who  illustrates  its  Protestant 
orthodoxy  by  parallel  texts  from  the  Bible.  These 
criticisms  only  show  how  completely  it  stands  above 
all  barriers  of  sect,  all  schools  of  thought,  in  that  atmos- 
phere of  pure  humanity  where  there  is  no  dogma  to 
darken  God  to  the  eyes  of  men.  The  passions  and  in- 
dulgences of  youth  only  bring  Faust  remorse  :  place 
and  power  at  the  Emperor's  Court  fail  to  satisfy  him  :  the 
percejDtion  of  Beauty — which,  after  all,  is  only  a  re- 
cognition of  the  Divine  harmony — first  elevates  and 
purifies  his  nature,  and  his  hap^^y  moment  comes  at 
the  end,  as  the  result  of  an  unwearied  and  beneficent 
activity  for  the  sake  of  the  human  race,  aided  by  the 
Divine  love  w^hicli  is  freely  bestowed  upon  all  men. 

The  poem  embodies  all  the  finest  qualities  of  Goethe's 
mind, — his  rich,  ever-changing  rhythm,  his  mastery  over 
the  elements  of  passion,  his  simple  realism,  his  keen 
irony,  his  serene  wisdom  and  his  most  sacred  aspira- 
tion. The  more  it  is  studied,  the  wider  and  further  it 
spreads  its  intellectual  horizon,  until  it  grows  to  be  so 
far  and  dim  that  the  physical  and  the  spiritual  spheres 
are  blended  together.  "Whoever  studies  "  Faust,''  in 
connection  with  the  works  of  the  other  German  authors, 
cannot  but  admit  that  the  critic  is  not  wholly  mistaken, 
who  asserts  that  the  single  elements  which,  separately, 
made  his  compeers  great,  have  combined  to  make  one 


336  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

man  greatest ; — that  Klopstock's  enrichment  of  the  lan- 
guage, Lessing's  boldness  and  clearness  of  vision,  Wie- 
land's  grace.  Herder's  universality,  and  Schiller's  glory 
of  rhythm  and  rhetoric,  are  all  united  in  the  immortal 
work  of  Goethe  ! 

You  will  allow  me  to  close  this  incomplete  sketch 
with  some  lines  of  my  own  : 

Dear  is  the  Minstrel,  yet  the  Man  is  more  ; 
But  should  I  turn  the  pages  of  his  brain. 
The  lighter  muscle  of  my  verse  would  strain 

And  break  beneath  his  lore. 
How  charge  with  music  powers  so  vast  and  free. 

Save  one  be  great  as  he  ? 
Behold  him,  as  ye  jostle  with  the  throng 
Through  narrow  ways,  that  do  your  beings  wrong, — 
Self -chosen  lanes,  wherein  ye  press 

In  louder  Storm  and  Stress, 
Passing  the  lesser  bounty  by 
Because  the  greater  seems  too  high. 
And  that  sublimest  joy  forego. 

To  seek,  aspire,  and  know  ! 
Behold  in  him,  since  our  strong  line  began. 

The  first  full-statured  man  ! 
Dear  is  the  Minstrel,  even  to  hearts  of  prose ; 
But  he  who  sets  all  aspiration  free, 

Is  dearer  to  humanity. 
Still  through  our  age  the  shadowy  Leader  goes ; 
Still  whispers  cheer,  or  waves  his  warning  sign,-^ 

The  man  who,  most  of  men. 
Heeded  the  parable  from  lips  divine, 

And  made  one  talent  ten  ! 


XI. 

GOETHE'S    "FAUST.'* 

There  are  a  few  poetic  works  which  possess  an  im- 
mortal vitality — which  so  rej^resent  the  actions  and  the 
characters  of  men,  the  problem  of  hnman  nature,  or 
the  mysteries  of  human  life,  that  their  interest  never 
grows  old,  their  value  never  diminishes.  The  "  Iliad  " 
of  Homer,  Dante's  ^'Bivina  Commedia,''  Shakespeare's 
"  Hamlet  "  and  "  Othello,"  and  Goethe's  "Faust "  be- 
long to  this  class.  Works  like  these  were  never  pro- 
duced simply  through  the  voluntary  action  of  the  mind : 
they  grew  by  an  inevitable  law,  attracting  to  them  the 
best  creative  intelligence  of  the  poet,  and,  when  com- 
pleted, were  greater  than  he  himself  could  know  ;  for 
he  stood  too  near  them  to  measure  their  proj)ortions. 
The  truth  that  is  in  them  being  of  no  time  and  no  coun- 
try, only  touches  the  highest  intelligences  at  first,  and  is 
then  slowly  transmitted  to  still  wider  and  wider  circles. 
Goethe's  long  and  vigorous  life  enabled  him  to  watch 
the  impression  which  the  First  Part  of  "Faust  "  gradu- 
ally produced  upon  the  world ;  but  the  Second  Part, 
only  a  small  portion  of  which  was  published  before  his 
death,  is  not  yet  fully  understood  and  valued  as  it 
should  be,  even  by  the  most  cultivated  thinkers.  Stu- 
dents of  the  German  language  are  at  this  dav  dissuaded 
15  33/ 


338  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

from  reading  it  on  the  ground  that  it  is  incomprehensi- 
ble ;  and  the  com23letion  of  his  sublime  plan  is  charged 
against  the  author  as  the  weak  mistake  of  his  old  age ! 

As  Goethe  is  the  dominant  figure  in  modern  German 
literature,  so  '^ Faust "  is  the  dominant  work  among  his 
many  creations.  It  is  the  one  conception  which  began 
to  fill  and  inspire  him  at  the  age  of  twentj-one,  and 
remained  with  him  until  he  sealed  up  the  last  pages  of 
the  manuscript,  on  his  eighty-second  birthday.  Cher- 
ished thus  for  sixty-one  years,  his  whole  life  forms  the 
basis  upon  which  it  rests.  Xavier  Marmier,  the  distin- 
guished French  critic,  says  :  "It  was  the  chosen  work  of 
Goethe,  the  well-beloved  child  for  which  he  delighted 
to  gather  the  riches  of  science  and  the  precious  fruits  of 
inspiration.  It  was  the  bright  idea,  the  mistress  of  his 
youth,  the  companion  of  his  mature  age,  who  was 
accustomed  to  keep  watch  with  him,  to  visit  him  in  his 
dreams,  to  live  beside  him  in  solitude  and  society. 
He  bore  it  tenderly,  mysteriously  in  the  depth  of  his 
heart,  as  a  lover  bears  the  secret  of  his  first  love.  He 
did  not  reveal  its  growth,  neither  displayed  its  beauties 
nor  caprices ;  happy  in  having  created  his  Galatea,  he 
took  pleasure  in  seeing  her  move  before  his  mind,  in 
warming  her  uj)on  his  bosom,  and  each  day  giving  her  a 
new  life  by  his  artistic  word,  but  he  kept  her  for  himself 
alone,  and  if  other  eyes  peered  too  closely,  he  drew  the 
curtain  before  his  masterpiece.  Sometimes  he  was 
sombre  and  thoughtful  in  the  midst  of  society,  for  he  was 


GOETHE'S  "FAUST."  339 

thinking  of  Faust :  sometimes  a  king  came  to  see  him, 
and  he  left  royalty  with  pleasure,  to  return  to  Faust." 

When  we  have  learned  Goethe's  plan,  we  also  per- 
ceive the  great  difficulties  connected  with  its  execution. 
"We  may  regret  that  portions  of  the  work  were  so  long 
delayed,  but  we  are  very  grateful  that  it  was  not  allowed 
to  remain  a  fragment.  The  Second  Part  is  only  obscure 
in  some  of  its  details :  one  clear  and  easily-traced 
design  runs  through  it,  and  the  close  is  a  solution  of 
that  which  is  unsolved  in  the  First  Part.  I  shall  there- 
fore consider  both  as  one  connected  work,  which  was 
Goethe's  intention,  although  neither  the  publishers,  the 
critics  nor  the  translators  pay  much  regard  to  it.  I 
prefer  to  give  a  briefer  review  of  the  whole  work  rather 
than  confine  myself  to  the  part  which  is  most  familiar, 
and  thus  only  imperfectly  explain  its  meaning. 

The  Legend  of  Dr.  Faustus  first  took  a  form  in  the 
sixteenth  century,  while  the  belief  in  witchcraft  and 
diabolical  agencies  was  still  prevalent  among  the  peo- 
ple. The  earliest  edition  of  the  story,  upon  which  all 
later  variations  were  based,  appeared  in  1587,  and  an 
English  translation  of  it,  published  in  1590,  furnished 
Marlow  with  the  material  for  his  tragedy,  which  was 
first  acted  in  London,  I  believe,  in  1593.  There  was  an 
actual  Dr.  Faust,  born  in  1490,  who  studied  at  the  Uni- 
versity of  Wittenberg,  and  is  said  to  have  been  ac- 
quainted with  Melanchthon.  What  special  reasons  there 
were  for  making  him  the  hero  of  a  story,  cannot  be 


340  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

ascertained  witli  any  certainty ;  but  the  charge  of  a 
compact  with  evil  spirits  was  frequently  made  against 
any  man  of  more  than  usual  knowledge.  Even  Luther 
believed  in  the  constant  activity  of  a  personal  and  visi- 
ble devil,  whom  he  imagined  he  sometimes  beheld. 

The  story  varies  in  different  versions,  but  it  is  sub- 
stantially this  :  Dr.  Faust  having  acquired  all  possible 
human  knowledge,  and  being  still  unsatisfied,  invoked 
Satan  to  grant  him  the  further  power  he  desired.  The 
fiend  appeared,  and  promised  to  serve  him  in  all  things 
for  four  and  twenty  years,  on  condition  of  receiving  his 
soul  at  the  end  of  that  time.  The  compact  was  made, 
and  signed  by  Faust  with  his  blood.  Then  commenced 
for  him  a  life  of  indulgence.  In  an  hour  or  two  he  was 
transported  to  Italy,  Egypt  or  Constantinople  :  gold, 
jewels  and  splendid  banquets  came  at  his  call :  gardens 
blossomed  and  trees  bore  fruit  for  him  in  winter,  and 
no  man  had  power  to  injure  him.  The  Emperor  Maxi- 
milian summoned  him  to  Insbruck,  and  his  magic  arts 
were  exhibited  before  the  Court.  He  brought  back 
Helen  of  Troy  from  the  Grecian  Hades,  but  was  himself 
taken  captive  by  her  beauty,  and  forced  Satan  to  reani- 
mate her,  in  order  that  she  might  become  his  wife. 
After  exhausting  all  forms  of  enjoyment,  and  exercising 
all  powers  which  he  desired,  the  term  came  to  an  end. 
Helen  and  her  child  vanished ;  a  storm,  with  terrific 
thunder  and  lightning,  came  at  midnight,  and  in  the 
morning  only  a  few  fragments  of  Faust's  body,  torn  and 


GOETHE'S  "FAUST."  341 

mangled  by  infernal  claws,  were  found  in  his  chamber. 
He  liad  a  Famulus — a  word  used  to  signify  servant  and 
amanuensis — by  name  Cliristoplier  Wagner,  who  followed 
his  example,  made  a  compact  with  Satan,  was  served  by 
an  evil  spirit  in  the  shape  of  a  monkey,  and  finally  met 
the  fate  of  his  master. 

The  belief  in  witchcraft  survived  among  the  people 
long  after  law  and  theology  had  discarded  it,  and  a 
dramatized  version  of  Faust  was  one  of  the  favorite  plays 
given  in  puppet-theatres,  at  fairs,  or  other  popular  fes- 
tivals. Goethe  probably  saw  it  thus  acted,  as  a  child, 
and  when,  after  his  return  from  Leipzig,  he  took  up 
the  study  of  alchemy,  himself  disgusted  with  the  man- 
ner in  which  knowledge  was  then  imparted,  we  can 
easily  understand  how  the  legend  must  have  returned 
to  his  mind.  The  various  texts  of  the  old  puppet- 
plays,  which  I  have  read,  are  by  no  means  mere  dog- 
gerel :  they  show  a  good  deal  of  dramatic  power,  and 
suggest,  to  a  lively  imagination,  much  more  than  they 
express.  Goethe  was  not  the  only  one  to  whom  the 
idea  occurred,  of  making  a  graver  use  of  the  material. 
Lessing  and  Miiller  (called  "  the  Painter  Miiller  "),  each 
wrote  a  tragedy  of  Faust,  without  being  aware  of 
Goethe's  design ;  and  one  of  Lessing's  friends,  writing 
about  the  lost  manuscript  after  his  death,  says  that 
Lessing's  Faust  was  written  at  a  time  when  in  every 
quarter  of  Germany  a  "  Faust  "  was  either  published  or 
announced.     In  fact,  during  the  sixty-one  years  when 


342  GERMAN  LITERATXTRE. 

Goethe  was  occupied  with  his  work,  upwards  of  twenty- 
nine  dramas  or  poems  on  the  subject  of  Faust,  by  other 
authors,  were  published  in  Germany.  There  must  have 
been  something  in  the  intellectual  atmosphere  of  the 
day — some  general  craving  for  power,  some  dissatisfac- 
tion with  the  conditions  of  life,  which  made  the  legend 
attractive.  Goethe  took  it  up,  like  so  many  others ; 
but  he  alone  saw  the  typical,  universal  element  hidden 
in  it-^he,  alone,  was  able  to  engraft  his  own  life  and 
the  governing  forces  of  all  human  life  upon  this  wild 
shoot  of  a  darker  age.  He  began  to  write  in  1773,  after 
the  subject  had  been  maturing  for  two  or  three  years 
in  his  brain,  and  by  1775  had  written  nearly  one  half  of 
the  First  Part.  It  was  composed  very  slowly,  every 
line  and  couplet  being  carefully  finished  in  his  mind 
before  being  put  upon  paper.  With  his  removal  to 
"Weimar,  the  work  ceased,  and  the  manuscript  was  yel- 
low with  age  when  he  took  it  with  him  to  Italy.  Two 
scenes  were  added  in  Rome,  and  in  the  edition  of  his 
works,  published  in  1790,  first  appears :  ''Faust,  ein 
Fragment,''  containing  not  quite  two-thirds  of  the  First 
Part.  Stimulated  and  encouraged  by  Schiller,  he  re- 
sumed the  work  in  1797,  and  completed  the  whole  of 
the  First  Part,  and  a  considerable  portion  of  the  Sec- 
ond, which  belonged  to  his  plan  from  the  start.  In 
1808,  the  First  Part,  as  we  now  possess  it,  was  pub- 
lished ;  but  the  Second  Part,  delayed  by  his  scientific 
and  Oriental  studies,  was  suffered  to  wait  until  1824, 


GOETHE'S  "EAUST."  343 

by  \\rjaich  time  Goethe  was  seventy-five  years  old.  The 
third  Act,  generally  called  ''Die  Hdlena,''  was  pub- 
lished as  a  fragment  in  1827,  and  the  interest  and  the 
curiosity  which  it  excited  encouraged  Goethe,  in  spite 
of  his  age,  to  work  out  the  whole  of  his  grand  design. 
In  August,  1831,  the  Second  Part  was  finished,  but  it 
was  not  given  to  the  world  until  after  his  death. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  the  loss  of  Schiller,  the  battle 
of  Jena,  and  the  political  convulsions  which  disturbed 
Germany  for  ten  years  thereafter,  prevented  him  from 
undertaking  the  Second  Part  while  its  plan  was  fresh 
and  his  faculties  were  in  their  prime  of  vigor.  We  can- 
not but  feel  that  a  great  deal  was  lost  by  the  delay ; 
yet,  on  the  other  hand,  we  must  admit  that  no  other  test 
could  have  so  splendidly  proved  the  youth  and  the 
vitality  of  his  genius.  Three  predominant  elements 
are  united  in  the  work,  and,  while  they  are  generally 
blended  together  in  harmony,  we  are  sometimes  obliged 
to  consider  them  separately.  First,  there  is  that  broad, 
all-comprehensive  presentation  of  the  life  of  man  which, 
at  some  point  or  other,  touches  the  experiences  of  all 
men — including,  moreover,  the  problem  of  Good  and 
Evil,  simply  stated  and  sublimely  solved.  Secondly, 
there  is  a  reflection  throughout,  of  Goethe's  own  life, — 
of  the  phases  of  passion  and  thought,  through  which  he 
passed,  of  his  own  faith  and  doubt,  his  position  in  and 
towards  the  world.  Lastly,  there  is,  especially  in  the 
Second  Part,  matter  introduced  which  has  no  direct  con- 


344  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

nection  witli  the  plan  of  the  work,  and  interferes  with 
its  natural  evolution.  We  can  easily,  in  reading,  set  this 
last  feature  aside,  and  separate  it  from  the  main  design 
wherever  we  detect  it;  but  we  must  endeavor  not  to 
lose  sight  of  the  constant  and  intimate  presence  of  the 
two  former  elements — of  Goethe-nature  and  human 
nature.  Notwithstanding  the  breadth,  ripeness  and  im- 
partial quality  of  Goethe's  mind,  we  catch  a  fleeting 
glimpse,  here  and  there,  of  his  individual  presence ; 
or,  it  may  be,  that  because  all  his  life  is  so  clearly 
known  to  us,  we  see  the  experience  lying  far  behind 
the  poetry,  as  we  cannot  do  in  ShakesjDeare. 

Instead  of  giving  you  the  "  argument  "  of  "Faust,''  in 
advance,  let  me  rather  commence  at  once  with  an  ex- 
amination of  the  poem,  and  unfold  it  as  we  proceed.  The 
Dedication,  written  when  Goethe  was  nearly  fifty  years 
old,  breathes  a  subdued  and  tender  spirit.  In  resum- 
ing his  work,  so  long  after  its  first  inception,  he  recalls 
his  friends  and  literary  associates — Merck,  Lenz,  La- 
yater,  his  sister  Cornelia — nearly  all  of  whom  had 
passed  from  the  earth.  It  is  a  sweet  and  solemn  pre- 
lude that  he  sings  : 

Sie  horen   nicht  die   folgenden  TTiey  hear  no  longer  these  suc- 

Gesange,  ceeding  measures, 

Die  Seelen,  denen  ich  die  ersten  The  souls,  to  whom  my  earliest 

sang  ;  songs  I  sang  : 

Zerstoben    ist    das    freundliche  Dispersed    the    friendly    troop, 

Gedrange,  with  all  its  pleasures, 

Verklungen,  ach  !  der  erste  Wie-  And  still,  alas  !  the  echoes  first 

derklang.  that  rang  I 


GOETHE'S  "FAUST." 


345 


Mein    Lied    ertont    der    unbe- 

kannten  Menge, 
Ihr  Beifall  selbst  macht  meinem 

Herzen  bang ; 
Und  was  sich  sonst  an  meinem 

Lied  erfreuet, 
Wenn   es  nocli  lebt,  irrt  in  der 

Welt  zerstreuet. 

Und   micb    ergreift  ein  langst 

entwolmtes  Sehnen 
Nach    jenem     stillen,     ernsten 

Geisterreich  ; 
Es    scliwebet     nan    in    unbe- 

stimmten  Tonen 
Mein  lispelnd  Lied,  der  ^ols- 

harfe  gleicli ; 
Ein  Schauer  fasst  mich,  Thrane 

folgt  den  Thriinen, 
Das  strenge  Herz,  es  fiililt  sicli 

mild  und  weich  ; 
Was  icb  besitze,  seh'  ich  wie  im 

Weiten, 
Und  was  verscliwand,  wird  mir 

zu  Wirklichkeiten. 


I  bring  tbe  unknown  multitude 

,my  treasures ; 
Their    very  plaudits    give    my 

heart  a  pang, 
And  those  beside,  whose  joy  my 

Song  so  flattered, 
If  still  they  live,  wide  through 

the  world  are  scattered. 

And  grasps  me  now  a  long-un- 
wonted yearning 

For  that  serene  and  solemn 
Spirit-Land  ; 

My  song,  to  faint  iEolian  mur- 
murs turning, 

Sways  like  a  harp-string  by  the 
breezes  fanned. 

I  thrill  and  tremble  ;  tear  on 
tear  is  burning. 

And  the  stern  heart  is  tenderly 
unmanned  : 

What  I  possess,  I  see  far  distant 

lying. 
And  what  I  lost,  grows  real  and 
undying. 


After  this  Dedication  follows  a  "  Prelude  on  the  Stage  " 
— a  conversation  between  the  Manager,  the  Poet  and 
the  Merry-Andrew,  or  Humorous  person  of  the  com- 
pany. The  Manager  demands  something  that  will  please 
the  public,  who  have  read  so  much  that  they  have  be- 
come fastidious  in  their  tastes  ;  his  preference  would  be 
a  sort  of  literary  hash,  containing  so  many  elements 
that  each  hearer  will  be  certain  to  pick  out  something  ap- 
propriate to  himself,  and  all  will  go  home  pleased.  The 
Merry- Andrew  insists  that  there  must  be  plenty  of  fun 


346  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

and  follj  in  the  piece  ;  while  the  Poet  vainly  protests 
against  such  a  debasement  of  his  art,  and  finally  ex- 
claims to  the  Manager  :  "  Go,  find  yourself  a  more 
obedient  slave  ! "  The  Merry- Andrew  answers  him  with 
ridicule,  and  gives  his  idea  of  what  the  world  should  be, 
in  the  following  words  : 

In  bunten  Bildem  wenig  Klar-  In  motley  pictures  little  light, 

heit, 

Viel  Irrthnm  nnd  ein  Fiinkclien  Much  error,  and  of  truth  a  glim. 

Wahrheit,  mering  mite. 

So  wild  der  beste  Trank  gebraut.  Thus  the   best  beverage  is  sup- 
plied, 

Der    alle    Welt    erquickt    und  Whence  all  the  world  is  cheered 

auferbaut.  and  edified. 

The  Manager  then  puts  an  end  to  the  discussion  by 
commanding  that  the  work  shall  be  commenced  at 
once.  He  shows  his  sordid  business  nature,  his  utter 
ignorance  of  the  poetic  character,  by  saying  : 

Was  hilft  es,  viel  von  Stimmung  What  need  to  talk  of  Inspira- 

reden  ?  tion  ? 

Dem  Zaudernden   erscheint   sie  'Tis  no  companion  of  Delay. 

nie. 

Gebt  ihr  euch  einmal  f  iir  Poeten,  If  Poetry  be  your  vocation, 

So  kommandirt  die  Poesie.  Let  Poetry  your  will  obey  I 

He  ofi'ers  all  the  properties  of  his  theatre — beasts, 
birds,  sun,  stars,  fire  and  water,  and  closes  the  scene  by 
declaring  that  if  they  are  properly  used, 

So  schreitet  in  dem  engen  Bretter-  Thus,  in  our  booth's  contracted 

haus  sphere. 

Den  ganzen  Kreis  der  Schopf ung  The  circle  of  creation  will  ap- 

aus  pear. 


GOETHE'S  "FAUST.''  347 

Und    wandelt,  mit   bedacht'ger  And  move,  as   we  deliberately 

Sclinelle,  impel, 

Vom  Himmel  durcli  die  Welt  zur  From  Heaven,  across  the  World, 

Holle  !  to  Hell ! 

To  this  introduction  succeeds  a  "Prologue  in  Heaven," 
imitated  from  the  commencement  of  the  Book  of  Job. 
The  Prologue  begins  with  a  chant  of  the  Archangels, 
which  is  so  grand  that  I  must  quote  it  entire  : 

Raphael. 

Die  Sonne  tont  nach  alter  Weise       The  sun-orb  sings,  in  emulation, 

In  Bruderspharen  Wettgesang,        'Mid  brother-spheres,  his  ancient 

round : 

Und  ihre  vorgeschriebne  Reise         His    path   predestined    through 

Creation 

Vollendet  sie  mit  Donnergang.  He  ends  with  step  of  thunder- 

sound. 

Ihr  Anblick  giebt  den  Engeln  The  angels  from  his  visage 
Starke,  splendid 

Wenn  Keiner  sie  ergriinden  Draw  power,  whose  measure 
mag  ;  none  can  say  ; 

Die  unbegreiflich  hohen  Werke        The    lofty    works,    uncompre- 

hended, 

Sind  herrlich,  wie  am  ersten  Are  bright  as  on  the  earliest 
Tag.  day. 

Gabkiel. 

Und   schnell  und  unbegreiflich      And    swift,    and    swift   beyond 

schnelle  conceiving, 

Dreht    sich   -umher    der    Erde      The  splendor  of  the  world  goes 

Pracht ;  round, 

Es  wechselt  Paradieses-Helle  Day's  Eden-brightness   still  re- 

lieving 
Mittiefer,  schauervoUer  Nacht ;       The  awful  night's  intense  pro- 
found : 


348  GEHMAN  LITERATXTRE. 

Es  scliaumt  das  Meer  in  breiten      The    ocean- tides    in    foam    are 

Fltissen  breaking, 

Am  tief en  Grund  der  Felsen  auf ,       Against   the   rocks'   deep  bases 

hurled, 
Und  Fels  und  Meer  wird  fortge-       And  both,  the  spheric  race  par- 

rissen  taking. 

In  ewig  schnellem  Spharenlauf.         Eternal,      swift,     are      onward 

whirled  I 

Michael.  , 

Und    Sturme   brausen   um    die  And    rival    storms    abroad    are 

Wette,  surging 

Vom  Meer  aufs  Land,  vom  Land  From  sea  to  land,  from  land  to 

aufs  Meer,  sea. 

Und  bilden  wiithend  eine  Kette  A  chain  of  deepest  action  forg- 
ing 

Der  tief sten  Wirkung  rings  um-  Round  all,  in  wrathful  energy. 

her. 

Da  flammt  ein  blitzendes  Ver-  There  flames  a  desolation,  blaz- 

heeren  ing 

Dem    Pfade    vor    des    Donner-  Before  the  Thunder's   crashing 

schlags  ;  way  : 

Doch    deine  Boten,    Herr,    ver-  Yet,  Lord,  Thy  messengers  are 

ehren  praising 

Das    sanfte     Wandeln     deines  The  gentle  movement  of  Thy 

Tags.  Day. 

The  Three. 

Der  Anblick  giebt  den  Engeln      Though   still   by  them  uncom- 

Starke,  prehended. 

Da  Keiner  dich  ergriinden  mag,       From    these    the    angels   draw 

their  power, 
Und  alle  deine  hohen  Werke  And  all  Thy  works,  sublime  and 

splendid, 
Sind   herrlich,    wie    am    ersten      Are     bright    as    in    Creation's 
Tag.  hour. 

Mepliistoplieles   then  steps  forward,  and  in  a  brutal, 


GOETHE'S  ''FAUST."  349 

sneering  speech,  gives  liis  opinion  of  the  human  race. 
The  Lord  asks  him  if  he  knows  his  servant,  Faust. 
Thereupon  Mephistopheles  offers  to  bet  that  he 
will  win  Faust's  soul  if  permission  be  granted.  The 
Lord  answers  that  he  is  free  to  try :  that  man  errs  as 
long  as  he  strives  and  aspires;  but  He  tells  Mephis- 
topheles, in  advance,  that  in  the  end  he  will  stand 
ashamed,  to  see  that  a  good  man,  through  all  the  ob- 
scurity of  his  natural  impulses,  still  in  his  heart  has  an 
instinct  of  the  one  true  way.  Mephistopheles,  how- 
ever, accepts  without  the  least  fear  that  he  shall  fail. 
The  words  which  Goethe  puts  into  the  mouth  of  the 
Lord  intimate  that  Evil  is  a  necessary  part  of  the  cre- 
ative plan. 

Des  Mensclien  Thatigkeit  kann  Man's   active  nature,    flagging, 

allzuleiclit  erschlaffen,  seeks  too  soon  the  level  ; 

Er  liebt  sich  bald  die  iinbedingte  Unqualified  repose  lie  learns  to 

Ruli ;  crave  ; 

Drum  geb'  icb  gern  ibm  den  Ge-  Whence,  willingly,  the  comrade 

sellen  zu,  him  I  gave, 

Der  reizt  und  wirkt  und  muss.  Who  works,  excites,  and  must 

als  Teufel,  schaffen.  create,  as  Devil. 

The  "  Prelude  on  the  Stage  "  presents,  in  sharp  satir- 
ical outlines,  the  relation  of  the  poet  to  his  own  time. 
It  shows  that  Goethe  expected  no  popularity  for  his 
work — nay,  no  intelligent  comprehension  of  its  mean- 
ing. It  must  be  read  as  a  piece  of  defiant  irony.  The 
"Prologue  in  Heaven"  indicates  the  grand  ethical  idea 
underlying  the  whole  poem.     Only  the  form  is  taken 


350  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

from  Job  :  the  problem  is  stated  in  different  terms,  and 
worked  out  througli  an  entirely  new  and  original  pres- 
entation of  the  life  of  man.  But  the  manner  in  which 
Goethe  has  done  this  cannot  j)ossibly  be  understood 
without  reading  the  Second  Part. 

We  now  reach  the  first  scene  of  the  tragedy.  It  is 
night,  and  Faust,  in  an  old  Gothic  chamber,  begins  his 
soliloquy.  He  has  studied  PhilosojDhy,  Jurisj^rudence, 
Medicine  and  Theology,  and  finds  himself  no  whit  the 
wiser  than  before.  His  dreary  conclusion  is,  that  noth- 
ing can  be  known.  Then,  too,  he  has  lacked  in  obtain- 
ing worldly  fortune  :  he  has  neither  lands  nor  gold, 
honor  nor  consideration  among  men.  As  a  last  experi- 
ment he  has  turned  to  Magic,  hoping  that  he  may  de- 
tect the  secret  forces  of  nature,  the  undiscovered  germs 
of  all  power,  and  rummage  no  more  among  empty 
words.  A  sense  of  the  free  delight  of  physical  life, 
which  he  has  so  long  given  up  for  the  sake  of  study, 
comes  over  him ;  he  longs  to  leave  his  smoky  den,  his 
jars  and  skeletons,  and  live  the  life  of  the  body  in  the 
open  air.  In  this  soliloquy  we  find  not  only  the  early 
experience  of  Goethe,  but  the  early  conflict  between  the 
physical  and  the  intellectual  natures  of  all  men. 

Faust  contemplates  the  cabalistic  sign  of  the  Earth- 
Spirit,  and  then  invokes  its  appearance.  The  Spirit 
is  revealed  in  a  ruddy  flame,  but  Faust  turns  away 
his  head,  unable  to  endure  the  vision.  The  Spirit 
says: 


GOETHE'S  •'FAUST."  351 

In  Lebensfluthen.    im   Thaten-      In  the  tides  of  Life,  in  Action's 


storm, 


Sturm 

Wall-  ich  auf  und  ab,  A  fl-^c'^"*  ^^^^- 

VVebeliinundherl  A  shuttle  free 

GeburttmdGrab.  Birth  and  the  Grave, 

EinewigesMeer,  An  eternal  sea,   _ 

Ein  wechselnd  Weben  A  weavmg  flowing 

frSriri^n    sansenaen      ^^It^^S nrrning  loo. 

'°    ^tfstuhl  derZeit  '*«  "^ ''T'rur which 

Und  wirke  der  Gottheit  leben-      The    garment    of    Life    which 
digesKleid.  the  Deity  wears  1 

There  is  a  profound  meaning  in  the  words  with  which  . 
the  Spirit  disappears : 

NichtmbV'  No*""*' 

Faust  is  now  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  Wagner, 
his  Famulus,  who  represents  the  ordinary,  mechamca 
man  without  a  spark  of  original  thought,  and  whom  all 
the  education  in  the  world  only  turns  into  a  shallow 
pedant.     The  German  critics  consider  him  as  the  type 
of  a  Pm^er-^  term  which  they  apply  to  the  large 
class  of  half-stupid,  commonplace,  conTentional  mdi- 
^duals  who  enter  largely  into  all  society.    Wagners 
remarks  only  increase  Faust's  disgust  and  impatience. 
After  the  former's  departure,  Faust  resumes  the  solilo- 
quy finds  every  view  of  life  discouraging,  every  prospect 
of   attaining   satisfactory  knowledge   hopeless    and  is 
gradually  led  from  one  morbid  impulse  to  another,  untU 


352 


GERMAN  LITERATURE. 


he  settles  on  the  thought  of  suicide.    The  conclusion  of 
the  scene  is  so  remarkable  that  I  must  give  it  entire  : 


Nun    komm   lierab,    krystallne 

reine  Schale  .' 
Hevor  aus  deinem  alten  Futter- 


An  die  ich  viele  Jalire  nicht  ge- 

dacht  ! 
Du  glanztest  bei  der  Vater  Freu- 

denfeste, 
Erheitertest  die  ernsten  Gaste, 


Wenn  einer  dicli    dem    andern 

zugebraclit. 
Der     vielen     Bilder    kiinstlicli 

reiche  Pracht, 
Des  Trinker's  Pfliclit,  sie  reim- 

weis  zu  erklaren, 
Auf  Einen  Zug  die  Holilung  aus- 

zuleeren, 
Erinnert   mich   an   manclie  Ju- 

gendnacht. 
Ich    werde    jetzt    dicli    keinem 

Nachbar  reichen, 
Ich  werde  nieinen  Witz  an  del* 

ner  Kunst  nicbt  zeigen  ; 
Hier  ist  ein  Saft,  der  eilig  trunk- 
en  macht. 
Mit    brauner    Fluth  erfiillt    er 

deiiie  Hohle. 
Den  ich  bereitet,  den  ich  wahle, 

Der  letzte   Trunk  sei  nun,  mit 

ganzer  Seele, 
Als  festlich  hoher  Gruss,  dem 

Morgen  zugebracht. 


And  now  come  down,  thou  cup 

of  crystal  clearest, 
Fresh  from  thine  ancient  cover 

thou  appearest. 
So  many  years  forgotten  to  my 

thought ! 
Thou    shon'st   at   old   ancestral 

banquets  cheery. 
The  solemn  guests  thou  madest 

merry. 
When   one  thy  wassail  to  the 

other  brought. 
The  rich  and  skilful  figures  o'er 

thee  wrought, 
The  drinker's  duty,  rhyme-wise 

to  explain  them. 
Or    in    one    breath    below    the 

mark  to  drain  them, 
From  many  a  night  of  youth  my 

memory  caught. 
Now  to  a  neighbor  shall  I  pass 

thee  never. 
Nor  on  thy  curious  art  to  test 

my  wit  endeavor  : 
Here  is  a  juice  whence  sleep  is 

swiftly  born. 
It  fills  with  browner  flood  thy 

crystal  hollow  ; 
I  chose,  prepared  it  :  thus  I  fol- 
low,— 
With  all  my  soul  the  final  drink 

I  swallow, 
A  solemn  festal  cup,  a  greeting 

to  the  morn  ! 
[He  sets  the  goblet  to  Ms  mouth.'] 

{Chime  of  hells  and  choral  song.) 


OOETHE'8  ''FAUST:* 


Chokus  of  Angels. 


Christ  ist  erstanden  ! 
Freude  dem  Sterblichen, 
Den  die  verderbliclien, 
Schleichenden,  erbliclien 
Mangel  umwanden. 


Christ  is  arisen  I 
Joy  to  tlie  Mortal  One, 
Whom  the  iiumerited, 
Clinging,  inherited 
Needs  did  imprison. 


Faust. 


Welch  tiefes    Summen,    welch 

ein  heller  Ton 
Zieht  mit  Gewalt  das  Glas  von 

meinem  Munde  ? 
Verkiindiget  ihr  dumpf  en  Glock- 

en  schon 
Des     Osterfestes     erste    Feier- 

stunde  ? 
Ihr  Chore,  singt  ihr  schon  den 

trostlichen  Gesang, 
Der  einst  um  Grabes  Nacht  von 

EngeJslippen  klang, 

Gewissheit  einem  neuen  Bunde  ? 


What  hollow  humming,  what  a 
sharp,  clear  stroke. 

Drives  from  my  lip  the  goblet's, 
at  their  meeting  ? 

Announce  the  booming  bells  al- 
ready woke 

The  first  glad  hour  of  Easter's 
festal  greeting  ? 

Ye  choirs,  have  ye  begun  the 
sweet,  consoling  chant. 

Which,  through  the  night  of 
Death,  the  angels  minis- 
trant 

Sang,  God's  new  Covenant  re- 
peating ? 


Chorus  of  Women. 


Mit  Spezereien 
Hatten  wir  ihn  gepflegt, 
Wir,  seine  Treuen, 
Hatten  ihn  hingelegi;  ; 
Tiicher  und  Binden 
Reinlich  umwanden  wir,. 
Ach  !  und  wir  finden 
Christ  nicht  mehr  hier. 


Christ  ist  erstanden  1 
Selig  der  Liebende, 
Der  die  betriibende, 
Heilsam  und  iibende 
Priifung  bestanden. 


With  spices  and  precious 
Balm  we  arrayed  him  ; 
Faithful  and  gracious. 
We  tenderly  laid  him  : 
Linen  to  bind  him 
Cleanlily  wound  we : 
Ah  !  when  we  would  find  him, 
Christ  no  more  found  we  1 

Chorus  op  Angels. 

Christ  is  ascended  ! 
Bliss  hath  invested  him, — 
Woes  that  molested  him, 
Trials  that  tested  him, 
Gloriously  ended  1 


354 


GERMAN  LITERATURE. 


Faust, 


Was  suclit  ihr,  maclitig  und  ge- 

lind, 
Ihr     Himmelstone,     mich     am 

Staube  ? 
Klingt   dort  umher,  wo  weiche 

Menschen  sind. 
Die  Botschaft  lior'  icli  wolil,  al- 

lein  mir  felilt  der  Glaube  ; 
Das  Wunder   ist  des   Glaubens 

liebstes  Kind. 
Zu  jenen  Spharen  wag'  ich  niclit 

zu  streben, 
"Woherdieliolde  Na<;hricht  tont ; 

Und  doch,  an  diesen  Klang  von 

Jugend  auf  gewohnt, 
Ruft  er  auch  jetzt  zuriick  mich 

in  das  Leben. 
Sonst  stiirzte  sicli  der  Himmels- 

liebe  Kuss 
Auf  mich  herab  in  ernster  Sab- 

bathstille  ; 
Da    klang   so   ahnungsvoll    des 

Glockentones  Fillle, 

Und  ein  Gebet   war  briinstiger 

Genuss  ; 
Ein  unbegreiflich  holdes  Sehnen 

Trieb  mich,  durch  Wald  und 
Wiesen  hinzugehen, 

Und  unter  tausend  heissen  Thra- 
nen 

Fiihlt'  ich  mir  eine  Welt  ent- 
stehn. 

Diess  Lied  verkiindete  der  Ju- 
gend muntre  Spiele, 

Der  Friihlingsf eier  f  reies  Gliick  ; 


Why,   here  in  dust,  entice  me 

with  your  spell, 
Ye  gentle,  powerful   sounds  of 

Heaven  ? 
Peal  rather  there,  where  tender 

natures  dwell. 
Tour  messages  I  hear,  but  faith 

has  not  been  given  ; 
The   dearest  child  of  Faith  is 

Miracle. 
I  venture  not  to  soar  to  yonder 

regions, 
Whence  the  glad  tidings  hither 


And  yet,  from  childhood  up 
familiar  with  the  note. 

To  Life  it  now  renews  the  old 
allegiance. 

Once  Heavenly  Love  sent  down  a 
burning  kiss 

Upon  my  brow,  in  Sabbath  si- 
lence holy  ; 

And,  filled  with  mystic  presage, 
chimed  the  church-bell 
slowly. 

And  prayer  dissolved  me  in  a 
fervent  bliss. 

A  sweet,  uncomprehended  yearn- 
ing 

Drove  forth  my  feet  through 
woods  and  meadows  free. 

And  while  a  thousand  tears  were 
burning, 

I  felt  a  world  arise  for  me. 

These  chants,  to  youth  and  all 
its  sports  appealing. 

Proclaimed  the  Spring's  rejoic- 
ing holiday  ; 


GOETHE'S  "FAUST.' 


355 


Erinnerung  halt  micli  nun,  mit 

kindlicliem  Gefiilile, 
Vom    letzten,     ernsten     Scliritt 

zuriick. 
O  tonet  fort,  ihr  siissen  Himmels- 

lieder  ! 
Die  Tliriine  quillt,  die  Erde  hat 

mich  wieder  I 


And  Memory  holds  me  now,  with 

childish  feeling, 
Back  from  the  last,  the  solemn 

way. 
Sound  on,  ye  hymns  of  Heaven, 

so  sweet  and  mild  ! 
My  tears  gush  forth  :  the  Earth 

takes  back  her  child  1 


Choeus  of 

Hat  der  Begrabene 
Schon  sich  uach  oben, 
Lebend  Erhabene, 
Herrlich  erhoben  ; 
1st  er  in  Werdelust 
Schafifender  Freude  nah  : 
Ach  !  an  der  Erde  Brust, 
Sind  wir  zum  Leide  da. 
Liess  er  die  Seinen 
Schmachtend  uns  hier  zuriick, 
Ach,  wir  beweinen, 
Meister,  dein  Gliick  I 


Disciples. 
Has  He,  victoriously, 
Burst  from  the  vaulted 
Grave,  and  ail-gloriously 
Now  sits  exalted  ? 
Is  He,  in  glow  of  birth, 
Rapture  creative  near? 
Ah  !  to  the  woe  of  earth 
Still  are  we  native  here. 
We,  his  aspiring 
Followers,  Him  we  miss  ; 
Weeping,  desiring. 
Master,  Thy  bliss  1 


Chorus  of  Angels. 


Christ  ist  erstanden 
Aus  der  Verwesung  Schooss. 
Reisset  von  Banden 
Freudig  euch  los  I 
Thatig  ihn  preisenden, 
Liebe  beweisenden, 
Briiderlich  speisenden, 
Predigend  reisenden, 
Wonne  verheissenden 
Euch  ist  der  Meister  nah, 
Euch  ist  er  da  ! 


Christ  is  arisen, 
Out  of  Corruption's  womb  : 
Burst  ye  the  prison, 
Break  from  your  gloom  1 
Praising  and  pleading  him. 
Lovingly  needing  him. 
Brotherly  feeding  him. 
Preaching  and  speeding  him. 
Blessing,  succeeding  Him, 
Thus  is  the  Master  near, — 
Thus  is  He  here  ! 


The  second  scene  is  before  tlie  city  gate,  on  the 
Easter  holiday.  Citizens,  students,  servant  girls,  beg- 
gars and  soldiers   make  their  appearance.     Each  one 


356  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

speaks  in  his  or  lier  character,  and  the  result  is  a  moi- 
ley,  animated  picture  of  life.  Faust  passes  through  the 
crowd,  feeling  his  desire  renewed  to  be  simply  a  man 
among  men.  Accompanied  by  Wagner,  he  walks  onward 
to  the  crest  of  a  neighboring  hill,  where  the  sight  of 
sunset  calls  forth  a  passage  so  grand  and  impassioned, 
that  it  is  hard  for  me  to  resist  the  temptation  of  quoting 
it.     But  I  dare  not  pause  too  often  by  the  way. 

As  the  dusk  begins  to  gather,  they  notice  a  black  dog, 
running  around  them  in  circles,  gradually  drawing 
nearer.  Wagner  thinks  it  is  only  a  stray  poodle  who  is 
hunting  his  master,  but  Faust  imagines  that  a  trail  of  fire 
follows  the  animal.  He  returns  to  his  quarters,  taking 
the  dog  with  him.  The  Third  and  the  Fourth  scenes 
are  in  Faust's  study.  He  begins  to  translate  the  first 
chapter  of  John,  while  the  dog  lies  on  a  cushion  behind 
the  stove.  But  he  growls  and  barks  fearfully,  at  each 
repetition  of  the  text.  Faust  suspects  the  presence  of 
an  evil  spirit  in  the  beast,  and  proceeds  to  exorcise  it 
by  the  usual  formula  of  magic.  The  spell  at  last  is  dis- 
solved, and  Mephistopheles  steps  forth,  in  the  costume 
of  a  traveling  scholar.  In  answer  to  Faust's  questions, 
he  declares  himself  to  be 

Part  of  tliat  Power,  not  understood, 
WTiich  always  wills  the  Bad,  and  always  works  tlie  Good ; 

and  again,  he  says  : 

I  am  tlie  Spirit  that  Denies  I 


GOETHE'S  ''FAUST.''  357 

explaining  that  his  proper  element  is  Evil,  in  all  its 
forms.  This  is  the  part  which  he  plays  throughout  the 
whole  poem.  He  is  not  Satan,  but  an  intellectual  Devil 
who  works  by  always  presenting  the  opposite  of  Good. 
He  argues  rather  than  directly  tempts,  and  assures  his 
power  over  Faust  by  trains  of  reasoning  which  the  lat- 
ter cannot  answer,  because  they  are  the  echoes  of  his 
own  doubts.  Mephistopheles  is  one  of  the  most  re- 
markable creations  in  literature.  His  cunning,  his 
subtlety,  his  scorching  ridicule  and  savage  cynicism 
form  a  compound  which  is  only  a  little  more  than 
human,  and  is  not  completely  infernal.  He  is  the  echo 
of  all  the  reckless  and  defiant  unbelief  of  the  whole 
human  race  :  in  him  are  concentrated  their  rebellious 
impulses,  their  indulgence,  their  negation  of  Virtue, 
Love  and  Faith,  and  herein  lies  the  secret  of  his 
power.  To  look  upon  him  as  a  conventional  devil 
would  lead  you  to  misunderstand  him  entirely.  Like 
the  very  qualities  of  human  nature  which  he  repre- 
sents, he  "  always  icUls  the  Bad,  and  always  tuorJcs  the 
Good," — that  is,  in  spite  of  himself. 

Mephistopheles  lulls  Faust  into  slumber  by  the  song 
of  his  attendant  spirits — a  wild,  almost  unearthly  chant 
which  hints  at  the  delight  of  the  senses,  without  ex- 
pressing any  intelligible  thought.  He  returns  next 
day,  and  so  plays  upon  Faust's  impatient,  despairing 
mood,  that  the  latter  curses  everything  in  which  he 
had  formerly  believed,  and  at  last — satisfied  that   all 


I 
358  QEBMAN  LITERATURE.    . 

forms  of  liappiness  liave  become  impossible  to  Mm — 
exclaims : 

Werd'  icli  beruhigt  je  mich  auf  When  on  an  idler's  bed  I  stretch. 

ein  Faulbett  legen,  myself  in  quiet, 

So  sei  es  gleich  um  mich  gethan  !  There  let,  at  once,  my  record  end  ! 

Kannst   du  mich  schmeichelnd  Canst  thou  with  lying  flattery 

je  beliigen,  rule  me, 

Bass  ich  mir  selbst  gef alien  mag,  Until,     self-pleased,     myself    I 

see, — 

Kannst  du  mich  mit  Genuss  be-  Canst  thoa  with  rich  enjoyment 

triigen  :  fool  me, 

Das  sei  fiir  mich  der  letzte  Tag  !  Let  that  day  be  the  last  for  me  I 

Die  Wette  biet'  ich  I  The  het  I  offer. 

Mephistopheles. 
Top !  Done  1 

Faust. 

TJnd  Schlag  auf  And  heartily  ! 

Schlag ! 

Werd  'ich  zum  Augenblicke  sa-  When  thus  I  hail  the  Moment 

gen  :  flying  : 

Verweile    doch  !      du    hist    so  "Ah,    still    delay — thou  art  so 

schon  !  fair  !  " 

Dann  magst  du  mich  in  Fesseln  Then  bind  me  in  thy  bonds  un- 

schlagen,  dying, 

Dann  will  ich   gern  zu  Grunde  My  final  ruin  then  declare  ! 

gehn  ! 

Dann    mag    die    Todtenglocke  Then  let  the  death-bell  chime 

schallen,  the  token, 

DannbistdudeinesDienstesfrei,  Then  art  thou  from  thy  service 

free  ! 

Die  Uhr  mag  stehn,  dor  Zeiger  The  clock  may  stop,  the  hand  be 

fallen,  broken, 

Es  sei  die  Zeit  fiir  mich  vorbei !  Then  Time  be  finished  unto  me  ! 

This  is  tlie  compact :  and  I  beg  you  to  remember 


GOETHE' 8  "FAUST."  359 

the  words  which  will  give  Mephistopheles  power  over 
Faust.  He  must  experience  a  sense  of  happiness  so 
pure  and  complete  that  he  shall  say  to  the  passing  mo- 
ment :  "  Ah,  still  delay — thou  art  so  fair  !  "  Observe 
the  nature  of  the  problem  :  through  perfect  happiness 
he  will  lose  his  soul;  yet  how  shall  Mephistopheles 
evolve  happiness  from  Evil  ?  Either  way  there  seems 
to  be  a  paradox — a  moral  contradiction — and  the  solu- 
tion of  this  riddle  is  the  basis  upon  which  both  parts  of 
the  poem  rests. 

Faust  exclaims,  after  the  compact  is  made  : 

Stiirzen  wir  uns  in  das   Raus-  Plunge  we  in  Time's  tumultuous 

chen  der  Zeit,  dance. 

Ins  Rollen  der  Begebenheit  !  In  the  rush  and  roll  of  Circum- 
stance ! 

Da  mag  denn  Schmerz  und  Ge-  Then  may  delight  and  distress, 

nuss, 

Gelingen  und  Verdruss  And  worry  and  success, 

Mit  einander  wechseln,  wie  es  Alternately  follow,  as  best  they 

kann  ;  can  : 

Nur  rastlos  bethatigt  sich  der  Restless  activityproves  the  man  I 

Mann. 

While  Faust  retires  to  prepare  for  his  new  life  in  the 
world,  a  student  calls.  Mephistopheles  puts  on  Faust's 
cap  and  mantle,  passes  himself  off  for  the  learned  Pro- 
fessor, and  takes  the  opportunity  to  give  his  views  upon 
logic,  law,  theology  and  medicine.  His  remarks  are  so 
shrewd  and  his  satire  so  keen  that  the  student  is  pro- 
foundly impressed,  and  at  the  close  of  the  interview 
(like   many  another   student    nowadays)    requests    an 


360  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

autograpli  in  liis  album.     This  scene  is  a  masterpiece 
of  irony. 

Goethe  called  the  scene  in  the  witches'  kitchen  a  piece 
of  "dramatic  nonsense."  Faust,  looking  in  the  witches' 
mirror,  perceives  the  form  of  Margaret,  which  at  once 
takes  possession  of  his  fancy.  The  witch  gives  him  a 
magic  potion  to  drink,  which  repairs  the  waste  of  his 
body  in  studies,  and  restores  his  youthful  vigor.  Then 
follow  those  simple,  exquisite  scenes  in  which  Margaret 
is  the  heroine.  Faust  first  sees  her  returning  from  con- 
fession, when  she  repulses  his  proffered  escort.  By 
the  aid  of  Mephistoj)heles  and  an  old  neighbor  named 
Martha,  he  obtains  an  interview  in  the  garden,  and  soon 
succeeds  in  inspiring  a  return  of  his  love.  Margaret's 
perfect  innocence  and  her  simple  trust  in  him  awaken 
his  sense  of  remorse.  The  latent  good  in  his  nature 
drives  him  from  her,  lest  he  should  become  the  instru- 
ment of  her  ruin ;  but  MephistojDheles,  by  painting  her 
loneliness  and  yearning  for  the  absent  lover,  brings  him 
back  again.  Then  follows  the  celebrated  scene,  wherein 
Faust  gives  his  confession  of  faith,  in  answer  to  Mar- 
garet's doubts,  and  from  this  point  the  tragic  portion  of 
the  story  begins.  Margaret's  prayer  to  the  Virgin  is 
the  passionate  appeal  of  a  loving  and  suffering  heart. 
If  ever  tears  were  expressed  in  words,  it  is  in  those 
marvellous  stanzas.  It  is  remarkable  that,  although 
Margaret  is  a  simple,  ignorant  girl,  accustomed  to  hard 
work  and  no  sentiment — although  she  is  vain,  and  im- 


GOETBE'8  "FAU8T/'  861 

prudent,  and  yields  to  her  fate  from  the  first,  without 
making  the  least  resistance,  no  imaginary  woman  in  all 
literature — not  even  Imogen,  Cordelia  or  Ophelia — 
excites  so  tender  a  sympathy  in  the  reader.  The 
conception  of  her  character  is  not  only  original  but 
daring.  She  is,  simply,  a  woman,  as  innocent  in  her 
ignorance  as  Eve  in  Eden.  Sin,  crime  and  madness 
visit  her,  but  we  feel  that  she  is  their  helpless  victim, 
and  that  the  original  purity  of  her  nature  can  take 
no  permanent  stain. 

The  tragical  events  thicken.  Margaret's  mother  never 
awakes  from  a  sleeping  potion,  administered  without 
evil  intent:  her  brother,  Valentin,  attacks  Faust  in  the 
street,  and  is  slain  by  him.  Faust  and  Mephistopheles 
fly  from  the  city,  and  she  is  left  alone.  She  goes  to  the 
Cathedral,  to  seek  solace  in  the  religious  services,  but 
the  Evil  Spirit  pursues  her  there. 

Then  follows  the  Carnival  of  the  Witches,  among  the 
Hartz  Mountains,  on  the  Walpurgis-Night,  which  is 
the  First  of  May.  With  the  opening  lines  we  begin  to 
breathe  a  supernatural,  almost  a  diabolical  atmosphere. 
All  is  weird,  strange  and  ghostly.  Will-o'-the-wisps 
dance  along  the  path ;  a  tempest  rushes  down  the 
gorges,  tearing  up  the  trees  by  the  roots  ;  showers  of 
sparks  fly  through  the  air,  and  the  red  moon  hangs 
low  on  the  borders  of  the  sky.  The  witch  scenes  in 
Macbeth  are  ghastly  enough,  but  they  have  not  the 
lurid,  unearthly  atmosphere  of  the  Walpurgis-Night. 
16 


362  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

As  we  move  along  with  the  fitful  dance  or  stormy  sweep 
of  the  rhythm,  we  feel  a  creeping  of  the  nerves,  as  if 
in  the  presence  of  powers  brought  from  another  and 
darker  world.  Mephistopheles  here  again  reveals  his 
true  character,  but  he  cannot  persuade  Faust  to  take 
part  in  the  revels.  Faust's  thoughts  are  with  Margaret, 
and  he  sees  her  at  last,  as  a  phantom,  wherein  her  fate 
is  revealed  to  him.  It  is  difficult  for  me  to  refrain 
from  quoting  portions  of  the  Walpurgis-Night ;  but  I 
am  forced  to  do  it. 

The  Intermezzo  (or  interlude),  called  "Oberon  and 
Titania's  Golden  Wedding,"  which  follows,  has  really 
nothing  to  do  with  ^^  Faust.'"'  Goethe  wrote  it  as  a 
series  of  "  Xenien,''  in  another  form,  and  sent  it  to 
Schiller  for  publication  in  "The  Hours."  Schiller, 
however,  judged  it  best  not  to  revive  the  excitement, 
which  was  beginning  to  subside,  and  returned  it  to 
Goethe,  suggesting  that  he  might  use  it  in  some  other 
way  :  thus  it  came  to  be  interpolated  into  "  Faust.''  It 
is  a  collection  of  very  short,  sharp  stanzas,  which  snap 
and  sting  like  a  whip-lash,  describing  Goethe's  literary 
enemies  under  names  which  allow  the  real  persons  to 
be  guessed. 

Beturning  to  the  tragedy,  we  next  encounter  Faust 
in  a  state  bordering  upon  madness.  He  has  learned 
that  Margaret  is  imprisoned  and  condemned  to  death 
for  infanticide.  His  remorse  and  passion  are  so  fran- 
tically expressed,  that  Mephistopheles,  Devil  as  he  is, 


GOETHE'S  "FAUST:*  363 

begins  to  be  friglitened.  He  consents  to  carry  Faust 
to  Margaret's  dungeon,  and  give  liis  assistance  in  car- 
rying her  off. 

One  more  scene  concludes  the  First  Part — the  inter- 
view between  Margaret  and  Faust  in  the  dungeon.  It 
is  heart-rending  in  its  tragic  power.  Margaret,  ren- 
dered insane  by  her  misery — and  we  are  given  to  un- 
derstand that  the  crime  for  which  she  is  condemned 
was  insanely  committed — does  not  recognize  her  lover. 
She  takes  Faust  to  be  the  jailer,  and  pleads  piteously 
for  her  life.  At  last  she  begins  to  remember,  but 
dimly  and  incoherently  :  she  takes  no  notice  of  Faust's 
agonizing  efforts  to  persuade  her  to  fly  with  him.  I  will 
quote  the  last  half  of  the  scene  : 

Maegaret. 

Meine  Mutter  hab'   icli   umge-  My  mother  liave  I  put  to  death ; 

bracht, 

Mein  Kind  hab'  ich  ertrankt.  I've  drowned  the  baby  born  to 

thee. 

War  es  nicht  dir  und  mir  ge-  Was  it  not  given  to  thee  and 

schenkt  ?  me  ? 

Dir  auch — Du  bist's  !  ich  glaub'  Thee,  too  ! — 'Tis  thou  !  It  scarce- 

es  kaum.  ly  true  doth  seem — 

Gieb  deine  Hand  !    Es  ist  kein  Give  me  thy  hand  !     'Tis  not  a 

Traum  !  dream  ! 

Deine  liebe  Hand  ! — Ach,  aber  sie  Thy  dear,  dear  hand  ! — But,  ah, 

ist  feucht  !  'tis  wet  ! 

Wische  sie  ab  !  Wie  mich  daucht,  Why,  wipe  it    off  !      Methinks 

that  yet 

Ist  Blut  dran.  There's  blood  thereon. 

Ach  Gott !  Was  hastdu  gethan  !  Ah,  God  !  what  hast  thou  done? 

Stecke  den  Degen  ein,  Nay,  sheathe  thy  sword  at  last  I 

Ich  bitte  dich  drum  !  Do  not  affray  me  I 


364 


GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

Faust. 


Lass  das  Vergangne  vergangen      O,  let  the  past  be  past ! 

sein  ! 
Bu  bringst  mich  mn.  Thy  words  will  slay  me  1 


Maegabet. 


Nein,  du  musst  tibrig  bleiben  ! 
Icb    will    dir    die    Graber    be- 

schreiben, 
Ftir  die  musst  du  sorgen 
Gleicb  morgen  ; 
Der  Mutter  den  besten  Platz  ge- 

ben, 
Meinen  Bruder  sogleich  darne- 

ben, 
Micb  ein  wenig  bei  Seit'  ! 
Nur  nicht  gar  zu  weit  ! 
Und  das  Kleine  mir  an  die  rechte 

Brust. 
Niemand    wird    sonst    bei    mir 

liegen  ! 
Micb  an  deine  Seite  zu  scbmie- 

Das  war  ein   susses,  ein  holdes 

Gluck ! 
Aber  es  will  mir  nicbt  mebr  ge- 

lingen  : 
Mir  ist's  als  milsst'  ich  micb  zu 

dir  zwingen, 
Als  stiessest  du  micb  von  dir  zu- 

ruck  ; 
Und  docb  bist  du's  und  blickst 

so  gut,  so  f  romm. 


No,  no  !    Tbou  must  outli^re  us. 
Now  I'll  tell  tbee  the  graves  to 

give  us  : 
Thou  must  begin  to-morrow 
The  work  of  sorrow  ! 
The    best     place    give    to    my 

mother, 
Then    close     at    her    side    my 

brother, 
And  me  a  little  away. 
But  not  too  very  far,  I  pray  ! 
And  here,  on  my  right  breast, 

my  baby  lay. 
Nobody  else  will  lie  beside  me  ! — 

Ah,  within  thine  arms  to  hide 
me. 

That  was  a  sweet  and  a  gracious 
bliss. 

But  no  more,  no  more  can  I  at- 
tain it. 

I  would  force  myself  on  thee 
and  constrain  it, 

And  it  seems  thou  repellest  my 
kiss  : 

And  yet  'tis  thou,  so  good,  so 
kind  to  see  ! 


Fattst. 

Fuhlst  du,  dass  ich  es  bin,   so      If  thou  feel'st  it  is  I,  then  come 
komm'  1  with  me  I 


GOETHE'S  "FAUST:*  365 

Makgaket. 
Dalimaus?  Out  yonder? 

Faust. 
Ins  Freie.  To  freedom. 

Margaret. 

1st  das  Grab  drauss'  ?  If  the  grave  is  there, 

Lauert  der  Tod,  so  komm' !  Death  lying  in  wait,  then  come  I 

Von    hier  ins   ewige   Ruhebett'  From  here  to  eternal  rest  : 

Und  weiter  keinen  Schritt  ; —  No  further  step — no,  no  ! 

Du  gehst  nun  fort  ?  0  Heinrich,  Thou  goest  away  !    O  Henry,  if 
konnt'  ich  mit  1  I  could  go  1 

Faust. 

Du  kannst  !    So  wolle  nur  I  Die      Thou  canst !  Just  will  it  I    Open 
Thiir  steht  offen.  stands  the  door. 

Margaret. 

Ich  darf  nicht  fort ;  f iir  mich  ist  I  dare  not  go  :  there's  no  hope 

nichts  zu  hoffen.  any  more. 

Was  hilft  es  fiiehn  ?    Sie  lauern  Why  should  I  fly  ?    They'll  still 

doch  mir  auf.  my  steps  waylay  ! 

Es    ist     so    elend,    betteln     zu  It  is  so  wretched,  forced  to  beg 

miissen,  my  living, 

Und  noch  dazu  mit  bosem  Ge-  And  a  bad   conscience   sharper 

wissen  !  misery  giving  ! 

Es  ist  so  elend  in  der  Fremde  It  is  so  wretched,  to  be  strange, 

schweifen,  forsaken, 

Und    sie    werden    niich    doch  And  I'd   still  be  followed    and 

ergreifen  I  taken  I 

Faust. 
Ich  bleibe  bei  dir.  I'll  stay  with  thee. 

Margaret. 
Geschwind  !    Geschwind  !  Be  quick  !     Be  quick  ! 

Rette  dein  armes  Kind  I  Save  thy  perishing  child  I 


366 


GERMAN  LITERATURE. 


Fort !     Imrner  den  Weg 

Am  Bach  hinauf, 

tj  ber  den  Steg, 

In  den  Wald  liinein 

Links,  wo  die  Planke  steht, 

Im  Teich. 

Fass'  es  nur  gleicTi  I 
Es  will  sich  he  ben, 
Es  zappelt  noch  1 
Rette  !     Rette  1 


Away  !    Follow  the  ridge 

Up  by  the  brook, 

Over  the  bridge. 

Into  the  wood. 

To  the  left,  where  the  plank  is 

placed 
In  the  pool  ! 
Seize  it  in  haste  ! 
'Tis  trying  to  rise, 
'Tis  struggling  still  I 
Save  it !     Save  it  I 


Faust. 


Besinne  dich  doch  ! 
Nur  Einen   Schritt,  so  bist  du 
frei  1 


Recall  thy  wandering  will ! 
One  step,  and  thou   art  free  at 
last  ! 


Makgaket. 

Waren  wir  nur  den  Berg  vorbei !      If  the  mountain  we  had  only 


Da  sitzt  meine  Mutter  auf  einem 

Stein, 
Es  f  asst  mich  kalt  beim  Schopf  e  ! 
Da  sitzt  meine  Mutter  auf  einem 

Stein 
Und  wackelt  mit  dem  Kopfe  ; 
Sie  winkt  nicht,  sie  nickt  nicht, 

der  Kopf  ist  ihr  schwer  ; 
Sie  schlief  so  lange,  sie  wacht 

nicht  mehr. 
Sie  schlief,  damit  wir  uns  freu- 

ten. 
Es  waren  gliickliche  Zeiten  ! 


! 

There  sits  my  mother  upon  a 
stone, — 

I  feel  an  icy  shiver  ! 

There  sits  my  mother  upon  a 
stone. 

And  her  head  is  wagging  ever. 

She  beckons,  she  nods  not,  her 
heavy  head  falls  o'er  ; 

She  slept  so  long  that  she  wakes 
no  more. 

She  slept,  while  we  were  caress- 
ing : 

Ah,  those  were  the  days  of  bless- 
ing ! 


FArsT. 


Hilft  hier  kein  Flehen,  hilft  kein 

Sagen  ; 
So  wag'  ich's,   dich   hinweg  zu 

tragen. 


Here    words    and    prayers    are 

nothing  worth  ; 
I'll  venture,  then,  to  bear  thee 

forth. 


GOETHE'S  ''FAUST.' 


367 


Margaeet. 

Lass  mich  !     Nein,    ich    leide  No — let  me  go  !      I'll  suffer  no 

keine  Gewalt !  force  I 

Fasse  mich  niclit  so  inorderisch.  Grasp  me  not  so  murderously  I 

an ! 

Sonst  liab'  ich  dir  ja  Alles  zu  I've  done,  else,  all  things  for  the 

Lieb'  gethan.  love  of  thee. 

Faust. 

Der  Tag  grant !  Liebchen  1  Lieb-      The  day  dawns  :  Dearest  I  Dear- 
chen  !  est ! 


Margaret. 


Tag  !  Ja,  es  "wird  Tag  !  der  letzte 

Tag  dringt  herein  ! 
Mein  Hochzeittag  sollt'  es  sein  ! 
Sag'  Niemand,  dass  du  schon  bei 

Gretchen  warst. 
Weh  meinem  Kranze  ! 

Es  ist  eben  geschehn  I 

Wir   werden    uns   wiedersehn ; 

Aber  nicht  beim  Tanze. 

Die  Menge  drangt  sich,  man  hort 

sie  nicht. 
Der  Platz,  die  Gassen 
Konnen  sie  nicht  fassen. 
Die  Glocke  ruft,  das   Stabchen 

bricht. 
Wie  sie  mich  binden  und  packen  ! 

Zum    Blutstuhl   bin   ich   schon 

entriickt. 
Schon  zuckt  nach  jedem  Nacken 

Die   Scharfe,  die  nach  meinem 

ziickt. 
Stumm   liegt  die  Welt  wie  das 

Grab  I 


Day  ?  Yes,  the  day  comes, — the 
last  day  breaks  for  me  ! 

My  wedding-day  it  was  to  be  ! 

Tell  no  one  thou  hast  been  with 
Margaret  ! 

Woe  for  my  garland  !  The 
"chances 

Are  over — 'tis  all  in  vain  ! 

We  shall  meet  once  again. 

But  not  at  the  dances  ! 

The  crowd  is  thronging,  no  word 
is  spoken  : 

The  square  below 

And  the  streets  overflow  : 

The  death-bell  tolls,  the  wand  is 
broken. 

I  am  seized,  and  bound,  and  de- 
livered— 

Shoved  to  the  block — they  give 
the  sign  ! 

Now  over  each  neck  has  quiv- 
ered 

The  blade  that  is  quivering  over 
mine. 

Dumb  lies  the  world  like  the 
grave  ! 


368  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

Faust. 
O  war'  ich  nie  geboren  I  O  had  I  ne'er  been  bom  I 


Mephistopheles  {appears  out 

Auf  !  Oder  ilir  seid  verloren.  Off  !  or  you're  lost  ere  morn. 

Unniitzes  Zagen  !    Zaudern  und  Useless    talking,    delaying   and 

Plaudern  !  prating  ! 

Meine  Pferde  schaudern.  My  horses  are  neighing  : 

Der  Morgen  dammert  auf.  The  morning  twilight  is  near. 

Mahgaeet. 

Was    steigt    aus    dem    Boden  What  rises  up  from  the  threshold 

herauf  ?  here  ? 

Der  !  der !     Schick'  ihn  fort  !  He  !  he  !  suffer  him  not ! 

Was  will  der  an  dem  heiligen  What  does  he  want  in  this  holy 

Ort  ?  spot  ? 

Er  will  mich  1  He  seeks  me  ! 

Faust. 
Du  soUst  leben  !  Thou  shalt  live. 

Makgaret. 

Gericht  Gottes  !     Dir  hab'  ich      Judgment   of  ■  God  !    myself  to 
mich  iibergeben  !  thee  I  give. 

Mephistopheles  {to  Faust). 

Komm  !  Komm  !  Ich  lasse  dich      Come  !  or  I'll  leave  her  in  the 
mit  ihr  im  Stich.  lurch,  and  thee  ! 

Margabet. 

Dein    bin    ich,    Vater  !     Eette      Thine  am  I,  Father  1  rescue  me  I 

mich  ! 
Ihr  Engel,  ihr  heiligen  Schaaren,       Ye  angels,  holy  cohorts,  guard 

me, 
Lagert  euch  umher,  mich  zu  be-      Camp    around,    and    from    evil 

wahren  !  ward  me  ! 

Heinrich  !    Mir  grant's  vor  dir.        Henry  !   I  shudder  to  think  of 

thee. 


GOETHE'S  "FAUST."  369 

Mephistopheles. 

Sie  ist  gericlitet !  She  is  judged  ! 

Voice  {from  above). 
Ist  gerettet !  She  is  saved  I 

Mephistopheles  {to  Faust). 
Her  zu  mir  !  Hither  to  me  \ 

{He  disappears  with  Faust.) 

Voice  {from  within,  dying  away). 
Heinrich  !    Heinrich  !  Henry  !    Henry  I 


This  is  all  of  ^^ Faust "  that  is  known  to  most  readers. 
But  jou  will  notice  that  the  evolution  of  the  great  plan 
is  only  commenced  :  the  riddle  has  not  even  approached 
its  explanation.  Of  all  the  usual  experiences  of  men, 
Faust  has  only  been  drawn  to  love,  but  love  so  inter- 
fused with  conscience  and  remorse,  that  the  happy 
moment  has  not  yet  blessed  him.  The  compact  with 
Mephistopheles  still  holds  :  he  has  not  won  his  wager, 
although  we  may  guess  that  he  thinks  so. 

After  the  compact  was  made,  he  says  to  Faust,  "  We 
will  first  see  the  little  and  then  the  great  world." 
By  the  "  little  world,"  he  means  the  individual  expe- 
rience of  the  emotions  and  passions  of  human  nature; 
and  this  is  the  reason  why  Faust  was  made  young  again 
by  the  magic  draught  in  the  witches'  kitchen.  By  the 
"great  world,"  he  means  the  experience  of  a  life  mov- 
16* 


370  GERMAN  LITERATURE, 

ing  on  a  broad  field  of  activity,  among  men,  and  in  sta- 
tions where  its  influence  will  be  felt  by  thousands,  or 
millions,  of  the  race.  In  this  greater  world,  Mephis- 
topheles  has  every  opportunity  to  display  his  evil  talent, 
and  to  annihilate  the  germs  of  good  which  baffle  him  in 
Faust's  nature.  The  Second  Part  is  therefore  wholly 
different  in  its  character.  It  is  crowded  with  char- 
acters, and  its  events  are  displayed  on  a  grand  stage — 
so  grand,  indeed,  that  Goethe  was  forced  to  introduce 
the  element  of  allegory,  and  make  single  persons  typify 
whole  classes  of  society.  It  requires  a  ripe  and  rather 
philosophical  mind  to  appreciate  this  part  properly, 
because  Faust  loses  something  of  his  strong  human 
individuality  by  coming  under  the  control  of  ideas 
instead  of  passions.  He  leaves  behind  him  the  expe- 
riences through  which  he  touches  the  lives  of  all  men, 
and  rises  to  those  wherein  he  touches  only  the  lives  of 
the  men  who  think  and  aspire. 

In  the  opening  scene  we  find  Faust  sleeping,  while 
Ariel,  accompanied  by  ^olian  harps,  chants  the  pro- 
gressive watches  of  the  night,  the  restorative  influences 
of  Nature.  This  chant  embodies  an  important  feature 
of  Goethe's  creed,  which  he  has  expressed  more  fully 
in  other  works.  He  believed  most  devoutly  in  pre- 
serving moral  and  spiritual  health.  If  there  is  a  moral 
wound,  it  must  be  healed,  leaving  perhaps  a  scar  be- 
hind it ;  but  it  must  not  be  kept  as  an  open  sore.  The 
chronic  inflammation  of  remembrance  and  remorse  must 


GOETHE'S  ''FAU8T."  371 

be  avoided.  The  true  atonement  for  a  wrong  commit- 
ted does  not  lie  in  nursing  the  pain  it  leaves,  but  in 
restoration  to  cheerfulness  and  courage  and  hope,  for 
the  sake  of  others. 

Faust  awakes  to  a  scene  of  sunrise  among  the  Alps, 
a  piece  of  superb  description.  We  learn  that  his  nature 
is  calmed  and  refreshed — that,  forgetting  his  Past,  he 
is  ready  to  face  Life  again  with  fresh  courage.  In 
fact,  he  afterwards  only  once  refers  to  anything  in  the 
First  Part. 

The  next  scene  introduces  us  to  the  Court  of  the 
Emperor,  who  appears  on  his  throne,  surrounded  by 
his  ministers  and  lords.  Mephistopheles  has  taken 
the  place  of  Court  Fool.  The  various  ministers  make 
reports,  each  more  discouraging  than  the  other.  The 
treasury  is  empty ;  the  realm  is  lawless  and  disorgan- 
ized ;  the  knights  and  burghers  are  at  war,  and  the 
allies  and  tributary  states  are  unfaithful.  Money,  how- 
ever, is  the  great  need,  and  Mephistopheles  proposes 
to  supply  it  by  digging  up  all  the  treasure  buried  in 
the  soil  since  the  old  Pioman  times.  The  proposition 
meets  with  favor,  but  the  subject  is  postponed  until 
after  the  Carnival,  which  is  near  at  hand. 

This  Carnival  is  an  allegorical  masquerade,  repre- 
senting Society.  The  young  of  both  sexes  appear  as 
flower-girls  and  gardeners.  Intriguing  mothers,  with 
marriageable  daughters  ;  rude,  offensive  natures  ;  social 
mountebanks,  parasites,  roues;   the  Graces,  typifying 


372  GERMAN  LITEBATUBE. 

refinement ;  the  Fates  ;  the  Furies,  emblematic  of  slan- 
der ,and  malice ;  Victory,  mounted  on  an  elephant, 
which  is  guided  by  Prudence,  while  Fear  and  Hope 
walk  on  either  side  ;  a  chariot  driven  by  a  boy  personi- 
fying Poetry,  while  Plutus  sits  within  and  Avarice 
hangs  on  behind — all  these  characters  meet  and  mingle 
as  they  are  found  in  the  society  of  the  world.  The 
part  of  Plutus  is  taken  by  Faust,  while  Mephistopheles, 
true  to  his  character  of  negation,  wears  the  mask  of 
Avarice.  The  Emperor  himself  appears  as  Pan,  at- 
tended by  Fauns,  Satyrs,  Nymphs  and  Gnomes.  The 
form  of  the  verse  constantly  varies  in  this  scene ;  it  is 
full  of  the  richest  and  rarest  rhythmical  effects. 

In  the  next  scene  the  Emperor  finds  the  aspect  of 
affairs  completely  changed.  The  treasury  is  filled,  the 
troops  are  paid,  commerce  flourishes,  and  the  whole 
realm  is  prosperous.  He  learns  that  during  the  confu- 
sion of  the  Carnival,  he  has  been  persuaded  to  sign 
a  document,  which  was.  really  a  decree  for  the  issuing 
of  paper  money,  redeemable  in  gold — after  the  buried 
Eoman  treasures  shall  be  discovered  and  dug  up.  Some 
of  the  features  of  this  scene  are  taken  from  the  Missis- 
sippi scheme  of  John  Law.  Goethe's  first  intention 
was  to  deal  with  politics  instead  of  finance,  and  we 
must  regret  that  he  afterwards  changed  his  plan.  Meph- 
istopheles presents  Faust  to  the  Emperor  as  the  orig- 
inator of  the  paper-money,  and  the  latter  appoints 
him,  with  the  Chancellor,  to  direct  the  finances  of  the 


GOETHE'S  "FAUST."  373 

realm.  In  this  scheme,  we  see  the  effort  of  Mephis- 
topheles  to  initiate  Faust  into  public  life  as  the  surest 
means  to  corrupt  him  ;  but  we  shall  soon  find  that  the 
evil  nature  has  made  a  mistake. 

The  Emperor  is  so  im^Dressed  bj  Faust's  marvellous 
power  that  he  desires  a  special  exhibition  of  his  art : 
he  commands  him  to  summon  the  shades  of  Paris  and 
Helen  to  appear  before  his  Court.  You  will  remember 
that  this  was  a  part  of  the  original  Faust-legend,  and 
was  retained  in  some  of  the  puppet  plays.  Faust  calls 
Mephistopheles  to  his  aid,  but  the  latter  hesitates  to 
assist  him.  The  task  is  difficult  and  dangerous  :  Faust 
must  descend  to  the  Mothers,  holding  in  his  hand  a 
key  which  Mephistopheles  gives  him,  and  touch  with 
it  a  tripod.  The  Mothers  are  vague  existences,  who 
dwell  outside  the  bounds  of  Time  and  Space.  The 
Court  assembles,  Faust  rises  with  the  tripod,  Paris 
appears  and  then  Helen.  The  members  of  the  Court 
criticise  their  beauty  in  the  true  fashionable  style,  with 
impertinent  praise  or  absurd  censure.  But  we  see  that 
Faust  is  seized  with  a  passionate  adoration  of  the 
beauty  of  Helen,  and  we  now  begin  to  suspect  that 
she  is  something  more  than  a  mere  form.  She  repre- 
.sents,  in  fact,  the  abstract  sense  of  Beauty,  the  in- 
forming spirit  of  all  Art,  the  basis  of  the  highest 
human  culture.  The  honors  heaped  upon  him  by  the 
Emperor,  the  hollow  splendors  of  Court  life,  have 
only   touched    the    surface    of    Faust's   nature.      This 


§74  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

yision  of  an  Ideal  of  Beauty  masters  and  draws  Lim 
after  it. 

In  the  Second  Act  we  are  introduced  to  Faust's  old 
chamber,  and  to  his  Famulus,  Wagner,  who  has  taken 
his  place,  and  is  trying,  like  the  alchemists  of  the  Mid- 
dle Ages,  to  elaborate  a  human  being,  a  Homunculus, 
by  mixing  together  the  chemical  substances  of  which 
the  body  is  comj)osed.  Mephistoplieles,  by  a  trick, 
makes  the  experiment  successful,  and  the  Homunculus 
guides  him  and  Faust  to  the  Pharsalian  Fields,  on  the 
banks  of  the  Peneios,  in  Thessaly.  Here  we  have  a 
classical,  or  Grecian  Walpurgis-Night,  in  contrast  to 
the  Gothic  one  of  the  First  Part.  Faust  has  but  one 
thought — to  find  Helen,  while  Mephisto23heles  wanders 
about  among  the  forms  of  the  earliest  mythology,  feel- 
ing rather  uncomfortable,  and  a  little  uncertain  what 
course  to  pursue. 

The  number  of  characters  is  very  great.  Griffins, 
Pygmies,  Sphinxes,  Syrens,  Chiron  the  Centaur,  Em- 
mets, Dactyls,  Lamiae,  the  Phorkyads,  Thales,  Anaxa- 
goras,  Nereus,  Proteus,  Nereids  and  Tritons,  Telchines 
of  Ehodes,  and  the  sea-nymph  Galatea,  all  take  j)art  in 
this  wonderful  moonlight  spectacle.  A  great  deal  of 
the  action  has  no  connection  with  Faust.  Thales  and 
Anaxagoras  are  the  representatives  of  the  Neptunic 
and  Plutonic  theories  in  Geology,  and  Goethe,  as  a 
Neptunist,  takes  special  pains  to  ridicule  the  opposite 
views.     All  this,  however,  must  be  set  aside  :  then,  by 


GOETHE'S  '' FAUST: 


375 


carefully  examining  what  is  left,  we  find  that  it  repre- 
sents the  gradual  growth  of  the  element  of  Beauty,  in 
Art  and  Religion,  from  the  first  rude  beginnings  in 
Phoenicia  and  Egypt,  until  it  culminates  in  the  immor- 
tal symmetry  of  the  Grecian  mind.  Since  Goethe  gives 
a  moral,  even  a  saving  power  to  Beauty,  his  object  is 
now  not  difficult  to  understand. 

Faust,  meanwhile,  has  gone  to  Hades,  to  implore  Per- 
sephone to  release  Helen ;  but  we  are  not  informed 
how  this  is  accomplished.  As  a  specimen  of  the  versi- 
fication of  the  classical  Walpurgis-Night,  I  will  give  the 
chorus  o.^  the  Telchines  of  Rhodes  : 


Wir  haben   den   Dreizack  Nep- 

tunen  gesclimiedet, 
Womit  er  die  regesten  Wellen 

begiitet. 
Entfaltet      der      Donnrer      die 

Wolken,  die  vollen, 
Entgegnet  Neptunus  dem  grau- 

liclien  Rollen  ; 
XJnd  wie  auch  von  oben  es  zackig 

erblitzt, 
Wird    Woge    nacli    Woge  von 

unten  gespritzt  ; 
Und   was    audi  dazwisclien    in 

Aengsten  gerungen, 
Wird,  lange  gesclileudert,  vom 

Tiefsten  versclilnngen  ; 
Wesslialb  er  uns  heute  den  Scep- 
ter gereicht, — 
Nun  schvveben  wir  festlicb,  be- 

ruhigt  und  leicht. 


We've  forged  for  old  Neptune 
tbe  trident  that  urges 

To  smoothness  and  peace  the  re- 
fractory surges. 

When  Jove  tears  the  clouds  of 
the  tempest  asunder, 

'Tis  Neptune  encounters  the  roll 
of  the  thunder  : 

The  lightnings  above  may  inces- 
santly gJow, 

But  wave  upon  wave  dashes  up 
from  below, 

And  all  that,  between  them,  the 
terrors  o'erpower. 

Long  tossed  and  tormented,  the 
Deep  shall  devour  ; 

And  thence  he  has  lent  us  his 
sceptre  to-day. — 

Now  float  we  contented,  in  festal 
array. 


The   Third  Act  is  generally  called  "The  Helena." 


376  GEBMiiN  LITERATURE. 

The  scene  opens  in  Sparta,  wliitlier  Helen  has  just  re- 
turned from  Troj,  in  advance  of  Menelaus.  In  this  act 
Mephistopheles  appears  as  Phorkyas,  a  hideous  old 
woman.  Helen  being  Primitive  Beauty,  he,  of  course, 
is  obliged  to  become  Primitive  Ugliness.  I  must  com- 
press the  incidents  of  the  act  into  a  very  brief  space. 
Helen,  flying  from  the  vengeance  of  Menelaus,  finds 
herself  suddenly  in  the  court-yard  of  a  Gothic  castle, 
the  lord  of  which  is  Faust.  He  makes  her  queen  of  his 
domain,  their  nuj)tials  are  celebrated,  and  they  become 
the  parents  of  a  son,  Euphorion.  In  all  this  there  is 
a  double  allegory.  Helen  is  not  only  the  ideal  of  the 
Beautiful,  which  rescues  Faust  from  the  excesses  of 
passion  and  worldly  ambition,  but  she  also  stands  for 
the  classical  element  in  Literature  and  Art.  Faust  is 
not  only  the  type  of  man,  working  his  way  upward  by 
the  development  of  his  finer  faculties,  but  he  also 
stands  for  the  romantic  element  in  Literature  and  Art. 
This  secondary  meaning  is  added  to  the  ^YiinduYj  idea 
upon  which  the  whole  work  is  based.  Euj)horion,  there- 
fore, is  the  union  of  the  classic  and  romantic  spirits  in 
one  person.  He  is  a  perfect  embodiment  of  Goethe's  own 
poetry ;  but  as  Byron's  death,  at  the  time  when  this  act 
was  written,  powerfully  affected  Goethe,  he  determined 
to  make  Euphorion  a  distinct  representative  of  Byron. 
The  act  closes  with  the  death  of  Euphorion  and  the  dis- 
appearance of  Helen,  whose  garments,  left  behind  her, 
turn  into  clouds  and  bear  Faust  away.     As  a  specimen 


GOETHE'S  "FAUST.' 


377 


of  tlie  noblest  literary  art,  the  "  Helena  "  is  matchless : 
the  more  it  is  read  and  studied,  the  more  its  wonderful 
beauty  grows  upon  the  reader.  The  first  half  of  it  is 
written  in  pure  Greek  metres,  the  latter  half  in  short 
rhymed  stanzas  that  sound  like  the  clash  of  cymbals. 
I  will  only  quote  from  it  the  Dirge  sung  by  the  Chorus, 
on  the  death  of  Euphorion,  because  it  is  wholly  descrip- 
tive of  Byron : 

Not  alone  !  where'er  thou  bidest ; 


Nicht  allein  ! — wo  du  auch  wei- 

lest, 
Denn     wir    glauben     dicli     zu 

kennen ; 
Acli  !  weiiD  du  dem  Tag  entei- 

lest, 
Wird  kein  Herz   von  dir   sich 

trennen. 
Wiissten    wir    docTi    kaum    zu 

klagen, 
Neideud  singen  wir  dein  Loos  : 
Dir  in  klar  und  truben  Tagen 

Lied  und  Mutli  war  sclion  und 
gross. 

Acb  !  zum  Erdengliick  geboren. 

Holier  Alinen,  grosser  Kraft, 

Leider  !  f riib  dir  selbst  verloren, 
Jugendbluthe  weggerafft  ; 
Scbarfer     Blick,    die    Welt    zu 

scbauen, 
Mitsinn  jedem  Herzensdrang, 
Liebesglutb  der  besteu  Frauen 

Und  ein  eigenster  Gesang. 


For  we  know  thee  what  thou 

art. 
Ah  !    if  from  the  Day  thou  hid- 

est, 
Still    to    thee   will    cling    each 

heart. 
Scarce   we   venture    to    lament 

thee. 
Singing,  envious  of  thy  fate  ; 
For  in  storm  and  sun  were  lent 

thee 
Song  and  courage,  fair  and  great. 

Ah !  for  earthly  fortune  fash- 
ioned, 

Strength  was  thine,  and  proud 
descent  ; 

Early  erring,  o'er-impassioned. 

Youth,  alas!  from  thee  was  rent. 

For  the  world  thine  eye  was 
rarest. 

All  the  heart  to  thee  was  known  ; 

Thine  were  loves  of  women  fair- 
est, 

And  a  song  thy  very  own. 


378 


GERMAN  LITEHATTJBE, 


Docli  du  ranntest  unaufhaltsam 
Frei  ins  willenlose  Netz  ; 
So  entzweitest  du  gewaltsam 
Dich  mit  Sitte,  mit  Gesetz  ; 
Doch  zuletzt  das  hocliste  Sinnen 

Gab  dem  reinen  Muth  Ge\^^cllt, 
Wolltest  Herrliclies  gewinnen, 

Aber  es  gelang  dir  niclit. 


Yet  thou  rannest  uncontrolledlj" 
In  the  net  the  fancies  draw, 
Thus  thyself  divorcing  boldly 
As  from  custom,  so  from  law  ; 
Till    the    highest    thought  ex- 
pended 
Set  at  last  thy  courage  free  : 
Thou  would  st  win  achievement 

splendid. 
But  it  was  not  given  to  thee. 


Wem  gelingt  es  ? — Trlibe  Frage, 

Der    das     Schicksal    sich    ver- 

mummt, 
Wenn      am     ungliickseligsten 

Tage 
Blutend  alles  Volk  verstummt. 
Doch  erfrischet  neue  Lieder, 

Steht    nicht     langer    tief     ge- 

beugt ! 
Denn  der  Boden  zeugt  sie  wieder, 
Wie  von  je  er  sie  gezeugt. 


Unto    whom,    then?    Question 

dreary. 
Destiny  will  never  heed  ; 

When  in  evil  days  and  weary, 

Silently  the  people  bleed. 

But  new  songs  shall  still  elate 

them  : 
Bow  no  longer  and  deplore  ! 

For  the  soil  shall  generate  them, 
As  it  hath  done  heretofore. 


The  Fourth  Act  was  written  in  Goethe's  eighty-sec- 
ond year,  and  is  the  least  important  of  all.  Faust  cannot 
live  and  find  the  satisfaction  of  his  life  in  the  service 
of  the  Beautiful,  but  its  garments  bear  him  above  the 
stony  ways  of  the  Earth,  and  it  is  thenceforth  his  com- 
fort and  the  consecration  of  his  days.  He  now  insists 
on  a  new  field  of  activity :  he  means  to  compel  Nature 
to  the  service  of  man.  There  is  a  part  of  the  Emperor's 
realm  which  is  uninhabitable,  because  at  times  inun- 
dated by  the  sea :  this  he  will  dike  and  drain,  make  fit 


GOETHE'S  '' FAUST."  379 

for  population,  and  people  with  active  colonists.  Mephis- 
topheles  is  bound  to  obey  bis  commands,  and  the  greater 
part  of  the  act  is  taken  up  with  the  description  of  a 
battle  which  is  won  for  the  Emperor  by  his  assistance. 
In  return,  Faust  is  presented  with  a  title  to  the  vast  sea- 
swej)t  marshes  he  desires  to  possess. 

In  the  last  act,  the  great  work  is  accomplished.  There 
is  a  fertile,  populous  province,  intersected  by  navigable 
canals,  in  place  of  the  sea.  A  harbor  for  commerce  has 
been  built,  and  near  it,  in  the  midst  of  gardens,  stands  the 
palace  of  Faust.  Only  two  things  remain  to  be  done — 
to  drain  the  last  remnant  of  marsh,  and  to  gain  posses- 
sion of  a  little  cottage  and  chapel,  near  at  hand,  belong- 
ing to  an  old  couple  who  refuse  to  sell  or  leave  it. 
Faust  has  not  yet  found  his  perfectly  happy  moment, 
though  he  is  now  nearly  one  hundred  years  old.  Mephis- 
topheles,  whom  we  may  suppose  to  be  very  impatient 
by  this  time,  endeavors  to  hasten  matters  by  frightening 
the  old  couple  to  death  and  burning  down  the  cottage 
and  chapel.  Faust  curses  the  rash,  inhuman  deed,  and 
Mephistopheles  is  once  more  baffled. 

We  now  feel  that  the  end  approaches.  The  scene 
changes  to  midnight,  before  the  palace  of  Faust.  Four 
gray  women  enter:  one  is  Want,  another  Guilt,  the 
third  Necessity  and  the  fourth  Care.  The  palace  is 
barred  against  them — Want,  Guilt  and  Necessity  retire, 
but  Care  slips  in  through  the  key-hole.  Faust  defies 
her,  but  she  breathes  on  his  eyes,  and  he  becomes  blind. 


380 


GERMAN  LITEBATimE. 


But,  in  exchange  for  the  external  darkness,  his  spirit  is 
filled  with  light :  at  last  ho  sees  clearly.  He  urges  on 
the  work  with  haste  and  energy  :  "  one  mind,"  he  says, 
"suffices  for  a  thousand  hands."  He  groj^es  along,  feel- 
ing his  way  out  of  the  palace,  and  listens  to  the  clatter- 
ing of  the  spades,  which,  day  and  night,  are  employed 
in  draining  the  last  marsh.  He  feels  that  he  has  over- 
come the  hostile  forces  of  Nature,  and  created  new 
homes  for  millions  of  the  race.  Filled  with  this  grand 
consciousness,  he  exclaims : 


Ja  !  diesem  Sinne  bin  icli  ganz 

ergeben, 
Das    ist  der    Weisheit    letzter 

Scliluss  : 
Nur  der  verdient  sicb.  Freibeit 

wie  das  Leben, 
Der  taglicb  sie  erobern  muss. 

Und  soverbringt,  umruugen  von 

Gefabr, 
Hier  Kindbeit,  Mann  und  Greis 

sein  tiicbtig  Jabr. 
Solcb'  ein  Gewimmel  mocbt'  icb 

sehn, 
Auf  freiem   Grund  mit  freieni 

Volke  stebn. 
Zuni  Augenblicke  diirft'  icb  sa- 

gen: 
Verweile  docb,  du  bist  so  scbon! 

Es  kann  die  Spur  von    meinen 

Erdetagen 
Nicbt  in  Aeonen  untergebn. — 


Yes !    to  tbis  tbougbt    I    bold 

witb  firm  persistence  ; 
Tbe  last  result  of  wisdom  stamps 

it  true  : 
He  only  earns  bis  freedom  and 

existence, 
Wbo      daily     conquers     tbem 

anew. 
Tbus  bere,  by  dangers  ^irt,  sball 

glide  away 
Of    cbildbood,    manbood,    age, 

tbe  vigorous  day : 
And  sucb  a  tbrong  1  fain  would 

see, — 
Stand  on  free  soil  among  a  peo- 
ple free  ! 
Tben   dared  I  bail  tbe  Moment 

fleeing  : 
"Ah,   still  delay — tJiou  art  so 

fair!" 
Tbe     traces     cannot,    of    mine 

eartbly  being, 
In     aeons     perisb,  —  tbey    are 

tbere  ! — 


OOETEE'S  "FAUST.'*  381 

Im  Vorgefiilil  von  solcliem  ho-  In  proud   fore-feeling  of    sucli 

hen  Gluck  lofty  bliss, 

Geniess'  ich  jetzt  den  hochsten  I  now  enjoy  the  highest   Mo- 

Augenblick  ment, — this  ! 

He  lias  said  the  words  :  the  compact  is  at  an  end  ;  and 
he  sinks  to  the  ground,  dead.  Mephistopheles  has  won, 
to  all  appearance.  Standing  beside  the  body,  he  calls 
up  the  hosts  of  Hell  to  surround  him  and  take  joint 
possession  of  the  soul.  But  while  he  addresses  them 
in  a  strain  of  blasphemous  exultation,  a  glory  of  light 
falls  from  above.  The  angels  appear,  scattering  celes- 
tial roses,  and  chanting : 

Rosen,  ihr  blendenden,  Roses,  ye  glowing  ones. 

Balsam  versendenden  !  Balsam-bestowing  ones  ! 

Flatternde,  schwebende.  Fluttering,  quivering, 

Heimlich  belebende.  Sweetness  delivering, 
Zweigleinbefliigelte,                   ^         Branching  unblightedly, 

Knospenentsiegelte,  Budding  delightedly, 

Eilet  zu  bliihn  !  Bloom  and  be  seen  ! 

Frilhling  entspriesse.  Springtime  declare  him, 

Purpur  und  Grlin  !  In  purple  and  green  I 

Tragt  Paradiese  Paradise  bear  him, 

Dem  Ruhenden  hin.  The  Sleeper  serene  I 

The  Devils  are  driven  back  by  this  shower  of  roses, 
which  burn  them  worse  than  the  infernal  pitch  and 
sulphur :  the  angels  seize  and  bear  aloft  the  immortal 
part  of  Faust,  and  Mephistopheles  is  left  to  gnash  his 
teeth  in  impotent  rage.  The  last  scene  is  laid  in  some 
region  of  Heaven.  After  chants  of  ecstatic  adoration 
by  the  souls  of  saints,  the  angels  who  bear  the  spirit 


382  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

of  Faust  sing — and  I  beg  you  to  mark  the  words  care- 
fully: 

Gerettet  ist  das  edle  Glied  Tlie  noble  Spirit  now  is  free, 

DerGeisterwelt  vom  Bosen  :  And  saved  from  evil  sclieming  ; 

Wer  immer   strebend    sicli  be-  Whoe'er  aspires  unweariedly 

mtiht. 

Den  konnen  wir  erlosen  ;  Is  not  beyond  redeeming. 

Und  hat  an  ihm  die  Liebe  gar  And  if  he  feels  the  grace  of  Love 

Yon  oben  Theil  genommen,  That  from  On  High  is  given, 

Begegnet  ihm  die  selige  Schaar  The   Blessed    Hosts,   that  wait 

above, 

Mit  herzlichem  Willkommen.  Shall  welcome  him  to  Heaven  ! 

These  are  the  elements  of  Faust's  salvation,  and  they 
at  once  recall  to  our  mind  the  words  of  the  Lord  to 
Mephistopheles,  in  the  Prologue  in  Heaven :  "  Thou 
shalt  stand  ashamed  to  see  that  a  good  man,  through 
all  the  obscurity  of  his  natural  impulses,  still  in  his 
heart  has  an  instinct  of  the  one  true  way." 

After  further  chants  by  the  angels,  the  Mater  Gloriosa 
— the  Yirgin  Mary,  as  the  Protectress  of  Women — soars 
into  space,  and  the  soul  of  Margaret  approaches.  She 
is  not  yet  allowed  access  to  the  highest  heavenly  re- 
gions, but  the  hour  of  her  pardon  and  purification  has 
come.     I  will  quote  from  this  point  to  the  end  : 

{The  Mateh  Glokiosa  soars  into  the  space.) 
Chorus  of  Women  Penitents^ 

Du  schwebst  zu  Hohen  To  heights  thou'rt  speeding 

Der  ewigeu  Reiche,  Of  endless  Eden  : 

Vernimm  das  Flehen,  Receive  our  pleading, 

Du  Ohnegleiche  !  Transcendent  Maiden, 

Du  Gnadeiireiche  !  With  Mercy  laden  ! 


GOETHE'S  ''FAUST."  383 

Magna  Peccatkix.  {St.  Luke,  rii.  36.) 

Bei  der  Liebe,  die  den  Fiissen  By  tlie  love  before  Mm  kneeL 

ing.— 
DeinesgottverklartenSolines  Him,   Tby  Son,   a  godlike    vi- 

sion  ; 
Tbranen  liess  zum  Balsam  flies-      By  the  tears  like  balsam  steal- 

sen,  i^g-  ,     .  . 

Trotz  des  Pbarisaer-Hobnes  ;  Spite  of  Pharisees  derision  ; 

Beim  Gefasse,  das  so  reicblich         By  the    box,    whose    ointment 

precious 
Tropfte  Wohlgeruch  hernieder  ;       Shed  its  spice  and  odors  cheery  ; 
BeidenLocken,diesoweichlich      By    the    locks,    whose    softest 

meshes 
Trockneten    die   heiligen  Glie-      Dried  the  holy  feet  and  weary  1- 
der — 

MuLiEK  Samaeitana.  {St.  John,  iv.) 
Bei  dem  Bronn,  zu  dem  schon      By  that  well,  the  ancient  station 

weiland  ^     , 

Abram  liess  die  Heerdefiihren;      Whither   Abram's    flocks  were 

driven  ; 
Bei  dem  Eimer.  der  dem  Heiland      By  the  jar,  whose  restoration 
Kiihl    die    Lippedurft'    berlih-      To  the  Saviour's  lips  was  given  ; 

Bei  der  reinen  reichen  Quelle,  By  the  fountain,  pure  and  vernal, 

Die  nun  dorther  sich  ergiesset.  Thence     its     present     bounty 

spending, — 
Ueberfliissig,  ewig  helle,  Overflowing,  bright,  eternal. 

Rings  durch   alle  Welten  flies-      Watering    the    worlds    unend- 
set-  i^g  •- 

Maria  ^gtptiaca.  {Acta  Sanctorum,) 

BeidemhochgeweihtenOrte,  By  the    place,    where  the  Im- 

mortal 
Wo  den  Herrn  man  niederliess  ;       Body  of  the  Lord  hath  lain  ; 
Bei  dem  Arm,  der  von  der  Pforte      By  the   arm,  which,   from  the 

portal, 
Warnend  mich  zurucke  stiess  ;         Warning,  thrust  me  back  again; 


384 


GERMAN  LITERATURE. 


Bei  der  vierzigjalirigen  Busse, 
Der  icli  treu  in  Wiisten  blieb  ; 
Bei  dem  seligen  Scheidegrusse, 
Den  ini  Sand  ich  niederscli  neb- 


By  tlie  forty  years'  repentance 
In  the  lonely  desert-land  ; 
By  the  blissful  farewell  sentence 
Which  I  wrote  upon  the  sand ! — 


The 

Die  du  grossen  Siinderinnen 
Deine  Xahe  nicht  verweigei-st 
Und  ein  biissendes  Gewiunen 
In  die  Ewigkeiten  steigerst, 
Gonn'  auch  dieser  guten  Seele, 

Die  sich  einmal  nur  vergessen, 

Die  nicht  ahnte,  dass  sie  fehle, 
Dein  Verzeihen  angemessen ! 


Theee. 

Thou  Thy  presence  not  deniest 
Unto  sinful  women  ever, — 
Liftest  them  to  win  the  highest 
Gain  of  penitent  endeavor, — 
So,   from  this  good  soul  with- 
draw not— 
Who  but  once  forgot  transgress- 
ing, 
Who  her  loving  error  saw  not — 
Pardon  adequate,  and  blessing  1 


Una  P(ENITENTrDM 

{formerly  named  Margaret,  stealing  closer). 


Neige,  neige, 
Du  Ohnegleiche, 
Du  Strahlenreiche, 
Dein    Antlitz    guadig 

Gliick  ! 
Der  frilh  Geliebte, 
Nicht  niehr  Getriibte, 
Er  kommt  zuriick. 


Incline,  0  Maiden, 
With  Mercy  laden, 
In  light  unfading. 
Thy  gracious  countenance  upon 

my  bliss  ! 
My  loved,  my  lover. 
His  trials  over 
In  yonder  world,  returns  to  me 

in  this  ! 


Blessed  Boys 
{a/pproaching  in  hovering  circles). 


Er  tiberwachst  uns  schon 
An  machtigen  Gliedern, 
Wird  treuer  Pflege  Lohn 
Reichlich  erwiedern. 
Wir  wurden  friih  entfemt 
Von  Lebechoren  ; 
Doch  dieser  hat  gelernt, 
Er  wird  uns  lehren. 


With  mighty  limbs  he  towers 

Already  above  us  ; 

He,  for  this  love  of  ours. 

Will  richlier  love  us. 

Early  were  we  removed. 

Ere  Life  could  reach  us  ; 

Yet  he  hath  learned  and  proved, 

And  he  will  teach  us. 


GOETHE'S  ''FAUST: 


385 


The  Penitent 

( formerly  named  Margaret). 
Vom  edlen  Geisterclior  umgeben,       The  spirit-clioir  around  him  see- 


Wird  sich  der  Neue  kaum  ge- 

wahr, 
Er  ahnet  kaum  das  frische  Le- 

ben, 
So  gleiclit  er  schon  der  heiligen 

Schaar. 
Sieh,  wie  er  jedem  Erdenbande 

Der  alten  Htille  sich  entrafEt, 

Und  aus  aetherischem  Gewande 

Hervortritt  erste  Jugendkraft ! 

Vergonne  mir,  ihn  zu  belehren  ! 

Noch  blendet  ihn  der  neue  Tag. 


iiig, 

New  to  himself,  he  scarce  di- 
vines 

His  heritage  of  new-born  Being, 

When   like   the  Holy  Host  he 

shines. 
Behold,  how  he  each  band  hath 

cloven. 
The  earthly  life  had  round  him 

thrown. 
And  through  his  garb,  of  ether 

woven. 
The    early    force    of    youth    is 

shown  ! 
Vouchsafe  to  me  that  I  instruct 

him  ! 
Still  dazzles  him  the  Day's  new 

glare. 


Mater  Gloriosa. 
Komm  !    hebe  dich   zu  hohern       Rise,  thou,  to  higher   spheres  ! 

Spharen  !  Conduct  him, 

Wenn   er  dich   ahnet,    folgt   er       Who,  feeling  thee,  shall  follow 

nach.  there  I 


Blicket  auf  zum  Retterblick, 
Alle  reuig  Zarten, 
Euch  zu  seligem  Geschick 
Dankend  umzuarten  ! 
Werde  jeder  bessre  Sinn 
Dir  zum  Dienst  erbotig  ; 
Jungfrau,  Mutter,  Konigin, 
Gottin,  bleibe  gniidig  1 

17 


Doctor  Marianus 

{prostrate,  adoring). 

Penitents,  look  up,  elate, 

Where  she  beams  salvation ; 

Gratefully  to  blessed  fate 

Grow,  in  re-creation  ! 

Be  our  souls,  as  they  have  been. 

Dedicate  to  Thee  ! 

Virgin  Holy,  Mother,  Queen, 

Goddess,  gracious  be  I 


386  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

Chorus  Mysticus. 

Alles  Vergangliche  All  things  transitory 

1st  nur  ein  Gleichniss  ;  But  as  symbols  are  sent ; 

Das  Unzuliingliche,  Earth's  insufficiency 

Hier  wird's  Ereigniss  ;  Here  grows  to  Event : 

Das  Unbeschreibliche,  The  Indescribable, 

Hier  ist  es  gethan  ;  Here  it  is  done  : 

Das  Ewig-Weibliche  The  Woman- Soul  leadeth  us 

Zieht  uns  hinan.  Upward  and  on  ! 

To  those  wlio  intend  reading  the  whole  work  for 
themselves,  I  would  add  a  few  words  in  conclusion. 
In  the  characters  of  Faust  and  Mephistopheles  are 
represented  the  continual  strife  between  Good  and 
Evil  in  Man.  The  first  lesson  is  that  man  becomes 
morbid  and  miserable  in  seclusion,  even  though  he  de- 
votes himself  to  the  acquisition  of  knowledge.  He 
must  also  know  the  life  of  the  body  in  the  open  air, 
and  the  society  of  his  fellow-men.  He  must  feel  in  him- 
self the  j^assions  and  the  impulses  of  the  race  :  in  other 
words,  he  must  first  become  a  man  among  men.  He 
must  fight,  through  his  life,  with  the  powers  of  selfish- 
ness, doubt,  denial  of  all  good,  truth  and  beauty.  Then, 
the  error  and  the  wrong  which  he  may  have  committed 
must  not  clog  his  future  development.  He  must  re- 
cover health  from  moral  as  from  physical  disease.  The 
passion  for  the  Beautiful  must  elevate  and  purify  him, 
saving  him  from  all  the  meanness  and  the  littleness 
which  we  find  in  Society  and  in  all  forms  of  ]3ublic  life. 
The  restless  impulse,  which  drives  him  forward,  will 


GOETHE'S  "FAUST."  387 

save  liim — that  is,  lead  bim  constantly  from  one  sphere 
of  being  to  another  that  is  higher  and  clearer — in  spite 
of  error,  in  spite  of  temptation,  in  spite  even  of  vice. 
Only  in  constant  activity  and  struggle  can  he  redeem 
himself — only  in  working  for  the  benefit  of  his  fellow- 
beings  can  he  taste  perfect  happiness.  This  is  the 
golden  current  of  wisdom  which  flows  through  "  Faust'' 
from  beginning  to  end. 


xn. 

RICHTER. 

Of  all  tlie  representative  authors  of  tlie  great  literary 
era  of  Germany,  lie  who  was  known  as  "  Jean  Paul " 
during  his  life,  but  is  now  recovering  his  family  name  of 
Eichter,  is  the  most  difficult  to  describe,  both  in  regard 
to  his  relative  place  and  the  peculiarities  of  his  genius. 
In  the  lives  and  the  works  of  the  other  authors  we  find  a 
greater  or  less  accordance  with  intellectual  laws  ;  while 
he  is  phenomenal,  almost  to  the  point  of  being  abnormal. 
They  reflect  the  interests  and  the  influences  of  their  day, 
as  in  a  clear  mirror, — he  as  in  one  of  those  dark  glass 
globes,  which  we  sometimes  see  in  gardens,  distorting 
the  reflected  forms  out  of  all  their  natural  proportions. 
During  his  life,  his  circle  of  ardent  admirers  gave  him 
the  name  of  ''  Der  Einzige'' — the  "only  one,"  or  "the 
unique," — which  may  very  well  serve  as  a  measure 
of  his  literary  character,  if  not  of  his  elevation.  The 
first  impression  which  a  reader  gets  from  his  works  is 
that  he  stands  entirely  alone,  both  Avith  regard  to  other 
authors  and  to  his  own  age ;  but  a  longer  and  more 
careful  study  shows  that  his  relations  to  both  have  only 
been  distorted  by  the  unusual  qualities  of  his  mind. 

388 


BICHTEB.  389 

There  are  intellectual  genealogies  in  literature.  Most 
authors  may  be  sliown  to  be,  not  the  imitators,  but  the 
spiritual  descendants  of  others,  inheriting  more  or  less 
of  their  natures.  In  this  sense,  the  blood  of  Cowper 
shows  itself  in  Wordsworth,  of  Gibbon  in  Macaulay,  of 
Keats  in  Tennyson,  or  of  Chaucer,  after  five  hundred 
years,  in  William  Morris.  Among  E-ichter's  prede- 
cessors, his  nearest  intellectual  ancestor  was  Laurence 
Sterne,  the  author  of  "  Tristram  Shandy  "  and  the  "  Sen- 
timental Journey," — works  which  made  a  much  deeper 
impression  upon  the  literature  of  Germany  than  upon 
that  of  England.  Take  the  main  characteristics  of 
these  works — their  airy,  capricious  humor,  their  unex- 
pected touches  of  23athos,  and  their  brief  but  marvellous 
glimpses  of  liuman  nature  :  add  all  the  sentiment  of  the 
Storm  and  Stress  period,  with  the  passionate  fury  and 
frenzy  taken  out  of  it ;  add,  also,  a  prodigious  amount 
of  desultory  knowledge  ;  place  this  compound  in  the 
most  willful  and  whimsical  of  human  brains,  and  you 
will  have  a  vague  outline  of  Richter.  The  mixture 
is  so  unusual  and  heterogeneous  that  its  elements 
cannot  be  separated  by  an  ordinary  critical  analysis. 
Even  the  German  critics,  who  are  so  fond  of  dissecting 
an  author's  mind,  and  showing  you  every  hidden  muscle 
and  nerve  which  directs  its  motions,  have  found  Richter 
an  uncomfortable  subject.  He  is  a  lively  corpse,  and 
will  not  hold  still  under  their  scalpels. 

I  have  endeavored  to  indicate  to  you  the  special  fields 


390  GERMAX  LITERATURE. 

of  action  of  tlie  great  authors  of  whom  I  have  already 
spoken, — to  show  how  some  strong  interest  or  asj^ira- 
tion  of  the  race  found  its  expression  in  each ;  but 
Eichter  defies  any  such  attempt  to  define  his  position. 
We  can  only  collect  all  scattered  interests,  desires  or 
sentiments  which  the  others  did  not  specially  repre- 
sent, and  we  shall  be  tolerably  sure  to  find  them  some- 
where in  him. 

In  a  single  quality  he  is  ]3re-eminent.  Not  one  of 
his  illustrious  compeers  approaches  him  as  a  humorist. 
Lessing  possessed  a  keen  and  brilliant  power  of  irony, 
but  he  is  never  purely  humorous.  Klopstock  and 
Herder  had  no  comprehension  of  humor,  and  Schiller 
but  a  very  slight  trace  of  it.  Wieland  shows  most  of 
the  quality,  and  his  '*  Ahderiten  "  might  almost  be  con- 
sidered a  humorous  work,  but  it  would  be  more  correct 
to  call  it  a  lively  and  playful  satire.  Goethe's  humor  is 
always  severe,  and  sometimes  a  little  ponderous ;  in  his 
comedies  there  is  generally  an  element  of  grotesque- 
ness  and  purposed  absurdity.  But  in  Eichter  humor  is 
an  irrepressible  native  force,  breaking  out  in  the  midst 
of  his  tenderest  sentiment,  darting  helter-skelter  over 
all  his  pages,  sometimes  threatening,  sometimes  strik- 
ing sharp  and  hard,  provoking  at  one  moment  and  de- 
lighting at  another. 

Some  modern  English  and  American  writers  assert 
that  a  genius  for  humor  does  not  belong  to  the  German 
people,  and  that  its  highest  forms  are  not  manifested  in 


BIGHTEB.  391 

their  literature.  I  entirely  disagree  with  this  view. 
There  are  traces  of  a  very  genuine  humor  in  Luther : 
Fischart  overflows  with  it,  and  in  the  last  century 
Lichtenberg  will  compare  with  any  wit  of  Queen  Anne's 
time.  Although  Professor  of  Mathematics  and  the  Na- 
tural Sciences  at  Gottingen,  Lichtenberg  achieved  for 
himself  a  distinct  place  in  literature.  My  attention  was 
first  called  to  his  works,  some  years  ago,  by  Fritz 
Eeuter,  the  Platt-deidsche  humorist  of  our  day.  I  think 
even  our  extravagant  American  idea  of  humor  will  ap- 
preciate his  remark  that  "  a  donkey  is  simply  a  horse 
translated  into  Dutch;"  or  the  manner  in  which  he 
describes  one  of  his  pompous  and  pretentious  contem- 
poraries, by  saying:  "He  sits  down  between  his  two 
little  dogs,  and  calls  himself  Daniel  in  the  lions'  den." 
In  fact,  when  he  says  that  "a  man  who  has  stolen 
a  hundred  thousand  dollars  ought  to  be  able  to  live 
honestly,"  we  think  we  hear  an  American  speak.  He 
alone  would  prove  the  genuineness  of  German  humor, 
if  it  were  necessary  to  be  done. 

Eichter's  life  was  passed  within  narrow  limits,  and 
exhibits  neither  picturesque  situations  nor  startling 
dramatic  changes  ;  yet  it  is  none  the  less  a  story  of 
deep  interest.  His  grandfather  was  a  Franconian  cler- 
gyman, of  whom  he  says  that  "  he  was  equally  poor  and 
pious ; "  his  father  was  even  poorer,  but  with  no  in- 
crease of  piety  to  compensate  for  it ;  and  in  1763,  at  the 
little  village  of  Wunsiedel,  in  the  Franconian  mountains, 


392  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

he  himself  was  born  to  a  long  inheritance  of  privation. 
The  first  twelve  years  of  his  life  were  sj)ent  in  a  village 
called  Joditz,  near  the  town  of  Hof,  in  northern  Bavaria. 
The  beauty  of  the  scenery,  with  its  contrasts  of  dark 
fir-clad  hills,  sloping  fields  and  bright  green  meadows, 
awoke  in  him  that  susceptibility  to  all  the  forms  and  the 
phases  of  Nature,  which  is  one  of  the  charms  of  his 
works.  His  playmates  were  the  children  of  the  peas- 
ants, and  through  them  he  learned  the  life  of  the  com- 
mon people.  His  father,  with  a  beggarly  salary  as  cler- 
gyman, had  a  large  family  of  children,  who  were  both 
healthy  and  hungry,  and  he  was  barely  able  to  feed, 
clothe  and  instruct  them.  During  the  long  winter  even- 
ings the  family  burned  pine-splints  instead  of  candles. 

As  a  boy,  Richter  attended  school  in  Hof  and  in  a 
neighboring  town  to  which  his  father  was  transferred. 
He  was  an  insatiable  reader,  borrowing  books  wherever 
he  could  discover  any.  It  made  little  difference  what 
the  contents  were  :  so  they  were  books,  he  was  satisfied. 
He  furnished  himself  with  paper,  pen  and  ink,  copied 
everything  which  made  an  impression  on  him  as  he 
read,  and  finally  stitched  the  sheets  together  to  form  a 
book.  He  continued  this  habit  for  many  years,  and  the 
result  was  a  manuscript  library,  stuffed  with  the  plun- 
der of  thousands  of  volumes.  Everything  was  there — 
theology  and  tin-ware,  art  and  artichokes,  science,  cook- 
ery, ideas  of  heaven,  making  of  horseshoes,  aesthetics, 
edible   mushrooms,  mythology,  millinery — in  short,  a 


RICnTER.  393 

tolerably  complete  cyclopaedia,  lacking  only  the  alpha- 
betical arrangement.  When  he  could  find  no  printed 
volumes  to  borrow,  he  read  these  manuscript  collections 
over  again,  and  a  good  part  of  the  knowledge  contained 
in  them  stuck  to  his  memory. 

During  his  seventeenth  year  his  father  died,  and  the   , 
family  would  probably  have  starved,  except  for  a  little 
help  given  now  and  then  by  the  mother's  relatives.     In 
1781,  being   eighteen  years  old,  Eichter  went  to  the 
University  of  Leipzig,  hoping  to  live  by  teaching  while 
he  studied  theology.      But   the   uncouth   country-boy 
found  no  pupils.     How  he  managed  to  live  there  for 
two  years  none  of  his  biographers  fully  explain  :  the 
only  thing  certain  is  that  he  was  forced  to  abscond  to 
escape  imprisonment  for  debt.     Those  two  years,  how- 
ever, decided  his  vocation  for  life  :  he  gave  up  theology, 
consecrated  himself  to  literature,  and  published   the 
first  part  of  a  work  entitled  ''Die  Grdnlandischen  Prozesse  " 
(The    Greenland    Lawsuits).      Eichter    himself    says, 
forty  years  later,  that  it  was  written  in  his  eighteenth 
year,  after  daily  association  with  Pope,  Swift,  Young 
and  Erasmus  ;  but   the  reader   who   is   familiar   with 
those  authors  will  look  in  vain  for  the  least  echo   ot 
their  style  and  manner-from  beginning  to  end  Eichter's 
own  grotesque  individuality  is  as  clearly  marked  as  m 
any  one  of  his  later  works.     The  title  was  well  calcu- 
lated to  excite  curiosity ;  hence  the  greater  exasperation 
of  the  reader,  when,  instead  of  some  strange  Arctic  story 
17* 


394  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

or  fragment  of  forgotten  liistory,  lie  found  merely  six 
Essays— "On  Authors,"  "On  Theologians,"  "On  the 
Yulgar  Pride  of  Ancestry,"  "  On  Women  and  Dandies," 
and  "On  the  Prohibition  of  Books."  If,  nevertheless, 
he  attempted  to  read  one  of  these  Essays,  he  was 
confused,  at  the  outset,  by  a  style  which  at  that  time 
must  have  suggested  insanity.  The  minds  of  some 
authors  are  like  a  lamp  which  illuminates  the  sub- 
ject, more  or  less  brilliantly,  from  one  side  :  others 
walk  around  the  subject,  and  light  it  carefully  on  all 
sides ;  but  here  was  one  which  seemed  to  touch  off  a 
collection  of  fire-works,  fizzing,  snapping  and  popping 
in  all  directions,  in  the  midst  of  which  a  part  of  the 
subject  sometimes  gleamed  in  blue  fire,  then  another 
part  in  red  fire,  and  then  again  a  dozen  rockets  rushed 
off  into  the  sky,  leaving  the  subject  in  complete  dark- 
ness. It  is  very  evident  to  me  that  in  addition  to 
Pope,  Swift  and  Erasmus,  Eichter  had  been  attending 
lectures  on  physiology.  The  book  is  crammed  with 
illustrations  of  the  most  extraordinary  kind,  drawn 
from  that  science.  Two  sentences  from  the  first  essay 
will  suffice  to  give  you  an  idea  of  its  general  character. 
In  speaking  of  the  literary  pretenders  and  imitators  of 
the  time,  he  says :  "  In  the  dialogue  of  tragedy,  the 
slang  of  the  rabble  is  now  wedded  to  the  tone  of  the 
ode  ;  the  jests  of  beer-bibbers  and  the  songs  of  seraphs 
embrace  upon  the  same  tongue,  as  jugglers  draw  wine 
and  water  from  the  same  barrel.     The  saliva  of  poetry 


BIGHTER.  395 

makes  the  halting  tongue  of  passion  limber,  and  the 
poetic  quill  vaccinates  the  dumb  woe  with  rhetorical 
pustules." 

Of  course  the  success  of  such  a  work  was  simply  im- 
possible. The  reader,  who  expected  either  clear  wis- 
dom or  intelligible  wit,  found  himself  face  to  face  with 
a  man  who  seemed  to  be  grinning  through  a  horse-col- 
lar. But,  under  all  the  contortions  of  a  manner  which 
perplexed,  amused  and  offended  at  the  same  time,  there 
lurked  the  genius  of  the  man.  A  few,  a  very  few  per- 
sonal friends  began  to  believe  in  him.  It  must  be  said, 
in  illustration  of  his  integrity  of  character,  that  he  never 
afterwards  made  the  slightest  attempt  to  render  his 
style  more  acceptable  to  the  public.  It  had  to  be  ac- 
quired, almost  like  a  new  language,  before  he  became 
popular.  We  have  a  similar  instance  in  English  Litera- 
ture. When  Carlyle's  "  Sartor  Resartus"  first  appeared, 
as  a  serial  in  Frazer's  Magazine,  the  publisher  would 
have  discontinued  it,  in  despair,  but  for  the  letters  of 
earnest  appreciation  received  from  two  men,  one  of 
whom  was  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson.  This  was  in  1835 ; 
and  in  1870  the  same  work,  in  a  cheap  po23ular  edition, 
reached  a  sale  of  40,000  copies. 

When  Eichter  left  Leipzig,  as  an  absconding  debtor 
and  an  unsuccessful  author,  he  seemed  to  have  reached 
the  lowest  depth  of  misfortune,  and  there  was  appar- 
ently no  way  of  rising  out  of  it.  In  fact,  he  stuck  there 
for  years,  living  with  his  widowed  mother  in  the  town  of 


396  GEBMAN  LITERATURE. 

Hof,  in  a  state  bordering  on  starvation.  He  was  already 
a  man,  in  tlie  maturity  and  consistency  of  liis  character. 
Even  liis  personal  appearance  gave  rise  to  the  bitterest 
prejudice  against  him.  He  cut  off  the  queue,  which  all 
men  carried  at  the  time,  wore  his  brown  locks  loose, 
without  powder,  flung  away  the  thick  cravat,  which  then 
reached  from  the  collar-bone  to  the  ears,  and  walked 
the  streets  with  bare  throat, — often  without  a  hat. 

This  revolt  against  what  was  then  not  only  respecta- 
bility, but  decency,  shut  him  out  from  occupation  which 
he  might  otherwise  have  obtained.  There  is  nothing 
which  the  world  is  so  slow  to  forgive  as  an  independ- 
ence in  regard  to  personal  appearance  and  habits.  The 
greatest  living  English  jDoet  once  assured  me  that  there 
is  not  courage  enough  in  all  London  to  make  a  visit  in 
a  felt  hat.  Eichter  was  one  of  the  j)urest  of  men,  yet 
for  this  independence  he  was  branded  as  immoral ;  one 
of  the  most  religious  of  natures,  he  was  called  an  athe- 
ist. A  clergyman  in  Hof  possessed  a  work  which  Eichter 
was  very  anxious  to  read,  but  the  clerg}^man  angrily 
refused  to  lend  it,  unless  Eichter  would  first  wear  a 
cravat  and  powder  his  hair  ! 

After  three  years  of  painful  struggle,  a  university 
friend  finally  procured  Eichter  a  situation  as  private 
tutor  in  his  father's  family,  and  thus  for  three  years 
longer  the  suffering  man  was  at  least  fed  and  clothed. 
Then  he  established  a  school  of  his  own  in  a  little 
town  near  Hof,  and  labored  as  a  gentle,  if  an  unwilling, 


MIGHTER,  397 

pedagogue  for  four  years.  Tliis  brings  us  to  tlie  year 
1794,  the  beginning  of  his  literary  success,  the  first 
hope  of  which  led  him  to  give  up  the  school  and  re- 
turn to  his  mother,  whom  he  tenderly  cherished  until 
her  death  in  1797.  He  then  left  Hof  forever,  and  went 
to  Leipzig  and  Berlin. 

This  period  of  Eichter's  life  embraces  ten  years  of 
painful  and  discouraging  struggles,  and  four  years  of 
partial  success.  A  knowledge  of  it  is  of  the  greatest  im- 
portance in  estimating  both  his  personal  character  and 
his  intellectual  development.  The  name  of  Hof  sug- 
gests to  me  an  illustration  of  the  ignorance  which  a 
man  may  manifest,  and  yet  be  renowned  as  a  scholar. 
Prosper  Merimee  is  considered  the  first  German  scholar 
of  his  time  in  France,  yet  he  never  took  the  trouble  to 
inform  himself  that  Hof  is  a  Bavarian  town.  He  sup- 
poses it  to  mean  the  Court  of  some  reigning  prince,  and, 
in  spite  of  the  absurdity  and  the  contradictions  which 
ensue,  he  continually  says  of  Eichter,  while  he  and  his 
mother  were  starving  together  :  "  Comme  il  etait  a  la 
Cour!'' 

Eichter  meant  to  continue  his  "  Greenland  Lawsuits," 
but  no  publisher  would  even  look  at  them.  He  waited 
five  years,  and  in  1788  published  a  work  entitled 
'^ Austvahl  aus  des  Teufels  Papieren''  (Selections  from 
the  Papers  of  the  Devil),  a  collection  of  essays,  full 
of  keen  and  grotesque  satire,  but  neither  attractive 
nor  very   profitable  reading.     His  long  struggle  with 


398  GERMAN  LITERATURE.      . 

poverty  and  with  the  narrow,  unjust  prejudices  of 
the  community  in  which  he  lived,  gave  a  sharp  and 
bitter  tone  to  his  mind  which  delayed  his  literary  suc- 
cess, and  thus  repeated  his  misfortune  in  a  new  form. 
But  a  change  was  now  near  at  hand,  and,  singularly 
enough,  it  came  through  a  moral  rather  than  an  intel- 
lectual development.  He  was  one  day  so  assailed  and 
ridiculed  by  some  of  his  narrow-minded  neighbors,  that 
the  strongest  feeling  of  resentment  was  aroused.  While 
he  was  trying  to  call  up  words  severe  enough  to  express 
it,  his  eye  fell  upon  some  boys  who  were  playing  near 
He  saw  suddenly,  as  in  a  vision,  the  troubles  and  th( 
sorrows  which  would  leave  their  marks  on  those  bright^ 
happy  faces  ;  he  felt  the  pangs  which  the  most  fortunate 
life  cannot  escape :  all  that  men  suffer  crowded  upon 
his  mind,  softened  his  heart,  and  he  turned  away  in 
silence  from  his  persecutors.  The  same  day  he  wrote  in 
his  journal:  "Henceforth  I  will  assert  my  rights  a& 
firmly  as  ever,  but  always  with  gentleness." 

His  next  work,  finished  in  1791,  marks  this  new 
dejoarture.  It  is  called :  "  Das  Lehen  des  vergnugfen 
Schidmeisterhins  JVuz''  (The  Life  of  the  Cheerful  Little 
Schoolmaster  Wuz).  Here  he  forsakes  the  essay,  and 
attempts  what  might  be  called  a  romance  if  it  had 
either  a  plot  or  a  consistent  narrative.  The  characters, 
as  in  all  his  later  works,  are  sometimes  wonderfully 
minute  and  realistic  studies  from  actual  life,  and  some- 
times merely  mouth-pieces  for  the  expression  of   the 


RICETER.  399 

author's  own  humor  and  fancy.  Many  of  the  scenes 
are  evidently  pictures  of  his  own  personal  experience, 
very  minutely  sketched,  but  at  the  same  time  so  deli- 
cately and  sportively  that  they  never  weary  the  reader. 

Kichter  felt  that  he  had  at  last  discovered  the  true 
field  for  his  willful  genius.  His  few  friends  gave  him 
hearty  encouragement,  and  it  only  remained  to  win 
back  the  public  which  he  had  repelled.  His  next  work, 
^^ Die  unsichtbare  Loge''  (The  Invisible  Lodge),  was  the 
turning-point  in  his  fortunes.  It  was  finished  in  the 
summer  of  1792,  and  sent,  with  an  anonymous  letter,  to 
an  author  named  Moritz,  in  Berlin,  begging  him  to  read 
it  and,  if  possible,  to  find  a  j)ublisher  for  it.  Moritz 
groaned  when  he  saw  the  package,  and  left  the  letter 
unopened  for  several  days.  When  he  finally  broke  the 
seal  and  read  the  first  sentences,  he  cried  out :  "  This 
must  be  from  Goethe ! "  He  then  began  to  read  the 
manuscript  aloud  to  some  friends,  and  very  soon  ex- 
claimed :  "  This  is  new  and  wonderful :  this  is  more 
than  Goethe  !  "  To  Eichter  he  wrote  :  "  Who  are  you? 
What  are  you  ?  The  man  who  has  written  these  works 
is  immortal !  "  A  package  of  a  hundred  ducats  accom- 
panied the  letter ;  and  Eichter,  reeling  and  staggering 
like  a  drunken  man,  from  a  joy  so  intense  as  to  be 
incredible,  hastened  home  to  pour  them  in  a  golden 
stream  into  the  lap  of  his  mother. 

If  the  enthusiasm  of  Moritz  did  not  communicate 
itself  to  a  very  large  circle  of  readers,  still  an  audience 


400  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

was  secured  ;  and  Eicliter's  next  work :  ^^ Hesperus  oder 
funfundvierzig  Hundsposttage  "  (Hesperus,  or  Forty-five 
Dog-Post  Days),  which  appeared  two  years  afterwards, 
brought  him  to  the  knowledge  of  all  the  authors  and 
the  critics  of  Germany.  A  place  was  made  for  him  in 
literature,  and  a  party  was  recruited  for  him  out  of  the 
ranks  of  the  reading  public.  Herder  hailed  him  as 
a  friend  and  an  ally :  the  sentiment  of  the  Storm  and 
Stress  period,  so  long  deprived  of  the  luxury  of  weep- 
ing, blessed  him  through  the  fresh  tears  which  fell 
upon  his  pages  ;  and  a  short  time  sufficed  to  transform 
the  ridiculous,  despised,  unpowdered,  bare-throated 
schoolmaster  of  Hof  into  a  sort  of  pastoral  and  idyllic 
demi-god,  whom  princesses  sought  as  a  guest. 

Apart  from  the  new  and  exceptional  genius  which  he 
brought  into  literature,  there  were  several  reasons  for 
Eichter's  sudden  popularity.  The  increasing  excellence 
of  Goethe  and  Schiller,  inform  and  proportion,  was  car- 
rying them  beyond  the  sympathies  of  that  large  class 
who  demand  feeling  and  warmth  and  a  certain  abandon 
in  their  favorite  authors  :  the  new  romantic  school, 
headed  by  Tieck  and  the  Schlegels,  was  not  yet  suffi- 
ciently developed  to  supply  the  public  need ;  and  jeal- 
ousy of  the  Weimar  circle,  in  other  parts  of  Germany, 
operated  to  the  advantage  of  any  new  author  who  pro- 
mised to  be  a  rival.  Eichter  kept  the  place  which  he 
had  made  for  himself.  His  later  works  all  retain  the 
character  of  his  earlier  ones.     Except  as  they  were  en- 


BlVRlEH.  401 

riched  from  his  experience  or  his  acquired  knowledge, 
they  show  few  traces  of  develojDment.  In  this  respect 
there  could  be  no  stronger  contrast  than  he  presents  to 
Schiller.  The  only  literary  endeavor  which  we  can 
trace  in  his  works  is  that  of  exaggerating  or  multiply- 
ing the  eccentricities  of  his  style. 

In  1796,  Kichter  visited  Jena  and  Weimar,  and  made 
the  personal  acquaintance  of  all  the  great  authors.  He 
first  met  Herder,  walking  in  the  park.  Eushing  up  to 
him,  he  cried  out :  "Art  thou  he  ?  "  "I  am,"  said  Her- 
der, "and  thou  art  he!"  Whereupon  they  fell  into 
each  other's  arms.  Kichter  was  drawn  into  a  circle 
which  was  very  hostile  to  Goethe,  and  although  the 
latter  treated  him  with  great  kindness,  he  took  no  pains 
to  secure  Goethe's  friendship.  He  seems  also  to  have  en- 
tirely misunderstood  Schiller's  nature  :  in  fact,  his  head 
was  a  little  turned  by  the  praises  showered  upon  him 
by  persons  more  demonstrative  than  the  two  authors : 
he  seems  to  have  expected  kisses,  embraces  and  tears, 
at  the  first  meeting,  and  calls  Goethe  frozen  and  Schiller 
stony,  because  they  only  shook  hands  and  invited  him 
to  dinner.  In  his  letters  to  Herder  and  Knebel,  he  ex- 
pressed these  crude  impressions,  and  they  were  soon 
repeated  in  the  gossij)  of  Weimar.  The  result  was 
Richter's  complete  estrangement  from  the  two  men 
who  most  might  have  helj)ed  him  onward  and  up- 
ward, even  as  they  helped  each  other.  Their  cor- 
respondence shows   that  they  were  both    profoundly 


402  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

interested  in   him,    and   inclined    towards   a    friendly 
association. 

After  his  mother's  death,  Eichter  lived  a  year  in 
Leipzig,  a  second  in  Weimar,  and  then  two  years  in 
Berlin,  where,  in  1801,  he  married  Caroline  Meyer,  the 
daughter  of  a  government  official.  He  first  selected 
Meiningen  as  a  residence,  but,  in  1805,  settled  perma- 
nently in  the  town  of  Bayreuth,  Franconia.  Three 
years  later,  the  Prince-Primate,  Dalberg,  the  only  eccle- 
siastical ruler  whom  Napoleon  did  not  suppress  in  Ger- 
many, gave  him  a  pension  of  one  thousand  florins  (four 
hundred  dollars)  annually,  which  was  continued  to  him, 
after  the  liberation  of  Germany,  by  the  King  of  Bava- 
ria. The  remainder  of  his  life  was  peaceful  and  un- 
eventful. He  fell  into  a  regular  habit  of  authorship, 
and  not  a  single  year  passed  without  one  or  more  new 
works  from  his  pen.  In  order  to  avoid  interriiption, 
he  hired  a  room  in  a  little  tavern  on  a  hill,  two  or  three 
miles  from  Bayreuth.  Some  years  ago  I  visited  the 
place,  and  found  a  garret  chamber  with  one  window, 
two  chairs,  some  shelves,  upon  which  Eichter  kept  his 
manuscript  cyclopaedia,  and  a  writing-desk,  in  the 
drawer  of  which  lay  an  unpublished  manuscript  in  his 
own  handwriting,  entitled  :  "  Some  Observations  upon 
lis  Fools."  Some  old  i3ersons  whom  I  met  there  de- 
scribed to  me  the  author,  as  they  had  seen  him  walking 
out  from  the  town  every  morning  and  back  every  even- 
ing, with  bare  throat,  a  bottle  of  wine  in  each  side- 


BICHTEB.  403 

pocket,  and  a  white  poodle-dog  at  his  heels.  One 
man  added  :  "  I  was  at  his  funeral,  and  he  was  the 
most  beautiful  corpse  I  ever  saw."  He  died  at  the 
close  of  the  year  1825,  not  quite  sixty-three  years 
old. 

The  other  works  of  Richter  which  are  best  known, 
are  "  Titan,''  which  is  generally  considered  his  greatest ; 
"  Blumen-  Fruclit-  und  Dornenstucke,  oder  Ehestand,  Tod 
und  Hoclizeit  des  ArmenadvoJcaten  SiehenJcds "  (Flower, 
Fruit  and  Thorn  Pieces,  or  Married  Life,  Death  and 
Wedding  of  the  Lawyer  of  the  Poor,  Siebenkas) ;  "  Bos 
Kampanerthal ;  "  "  FlegeljaJire ; ''  ^^  Levana  oder  Erzieh- 
ungslehre  "  (a  Theory  of  Education) ;  ^^  Dr.  Katzenberger^s 
Badereise'"  (Journey  to  a  Watering-Place),  and  ^^Vor- 
schule  der  Aesthetik  "  ( Introduction  to  Esthetics).  Ex- 
cept the  last,  all  these  works  must  be  called  romances, 
in  the  absence  of  any  better  term.  He  published 
also  a  number  of  smaller  humorous  essays,  the  most 
of  which  are  now  but  little  read,  except  by  his  spe- 
cial admirers.  The  complete  edition  of  his  works, 
published  after  his  death,  comprises  sixty  small  vol- 
umes. It  is  very  evident  that  it  finally  became  some- 
thing of  a  task  to  him  to  invent  new  eccentricities  in 
his  manner  of  treating  a  subject,  and  he  sometimes 
carries  the  grotesque  to  the  verge  of  idiocy.  In  "Hes- 
pertts "  the  chapters  are  called  "  Dog-Post  Days,"  be- 
cause a  dog  is  supposed  to  bring  them  to  the  author, 
one  by  one,  in  a  bottle  fastened  to  his  neck :  in  "  Titan  " 


404  GERMAN  LITERATURE, 

there  are  no  cliapters,  but  "  Johdpenodeii"  STibclivided 
into  "  Zylxel;''  in  the  "  Flegeljahre''  tlie  cliaj)ters  liave 
the  names  of  minerals — mica-slate,  feldspar,  hornblende 
— and  in  the  "  Invisible  Lodge  "  they  are  called  "  Sec- 
tors.'' Moreover,  there  is  no  regular  succession  of  these 
sedtors,  cycles  or  minerals :  they  are  continually  inter- 
rupted, and  the  progress  of  the  story — what  there  is  of 
it — is  delayed  by  "  extra  sheets,"  "postscripts,"  "  pasto- 
ral letters,"  "  addenda,"  "  intercalary  days,"  "  circulars," 
etc.  In  one  of  the  works  the  story  stojDS  suddenly,  and 
then  aj^pears  a  long  letter  to  the  publisher,  stating  that 
the  writer  is  the  author's  sister,  that  her  brother  has 
been  bitten  by  a  dog,  fears  that  he  may  have  hydro- 
phobia, and  must  suspend  his  labors  !  Many  of  the 
titles  also  have  no  relation  whatever  to  the  contents : 
he  calls  an  essay  of  a  somewhat  critical  and  biographi- 
cal nature,  "  Observations  made  under  the  skull  of  a 
giantess."  In  short,  there  are  no  bounds  to  the  willful, 
whimsical  pranks  of  his  mind.  The  reader  is  led  by 
glimpses  of  a  delicate  Ariel  into  swamps  and  briers, 
over  stone  heaps,  and  is  sometimes  left  alone,  in  the 
middle  of  a  labyrinth,  to  find  the  outlet  as  best  he  may. 
If  he  delights  in  quaint  fancy,  tender  sentiment,  pure 
human  sympathy,  exquisite  pictures  of  nature,  and  a 
power  of  suggestiveness  which  keeps  his  own  mind 
constantly  at  work,  he  will  bear  with  the  tricksome 
sprite  and  follow.  But  few  persons,  I  suspect,  could 
endure  the  caprice  and  the  arrogance  of  Eichter's  style. 


RIGHTER.  405 

were  it  not  for  the  strength  and  the  sweetness  of  his 
moral  nature. 

His  works  are  somewhat  difficult  to  read,  even  to 
Germans,  not  so  much  from  the  obscurity  of  his  thought 
as  its  utter  want  of  form.  He  often  tells  you  that  he  has 
a  certain  thing  to  say,  and  then  makes  the  tour  of  the 
world  before  he  says  it.  The  reader  finds  himself  in  the 
condition  of  a  patient  waiting  for  the  medicine  which 
a  friend  has  gone  to  buy,  but  who,  on  the  way,  drops 
in  at  the  baker's,  and  the  blacksmith's  shop,  hospital, 
picture-gallery,  prison,  hears  a  prayer  in  the  church, 
takes  a  dancing-lesson,  has  his  hair  cut,  and  looks  into 
twenty  volumes  at  a  second-hand  book-staU.  After  all 
this,  the  friend  brings  the  medicine,  and  he  is  so  kind 
and  sympathetic,  he  looks  into  your  eyes  with  such 
love,  his  voice  is  so  soothing,  that  your  vexation  dies 
instantly,  and  in  ten  minutes  you  let  him  go  out  again 
on  another  errand  of  the  same  kind. 

To  acquire  a  knowledge  of  Eichter  with  the  least 
difficulty,  one  should  take  one  of  his  works  along  as  a 
traveling-companion  on  a  railway.  He  may  then  be 
read  gradually,  with  many  interruj)tions,  with  pauses  to 
pursue  a  little  way  the  fresh  tracks  of  thought  he  is 
continually  suggesting,  and  with  glimpses  of  landscape 
which  harmonize  with  his  pages.  "We  cannot  feel  much 
interest  in  his  characters,  for  they  are  too  shadowy, 
except  when  they  are  drawn  from  humble  life  and  from 
actual  persons.     When  Eichter  describes   the   narrow 


406  GERMAN  LITEBATURE. 

circumstances  of  the  poor,  tlieir  customary  joys  and 
sorrows,  their  struggles  or  perplexities  of  heart  or 
mind,  he  is  wholly  admirable ;  but  when  he  rises  to 
that  class  which  possesses  the  ideally  impressible  ele- 
ment, he  often  makes  us  laugh  now  where  his  first 
readers  were  deeply  moved.  His  lofty  heroes  and  hero- 
ines weep  whenever  they  see  anything  beautiful ;  they 
embrace  and  kiss  whenever  they  agree  in  sentiment; 
the  sight  of  a  sunset  from  the  top  of  a  tower  gives  them 
thoughts  of  suicide,  and  they  never  look  up  to  the  stars 
without  sighing  to  be  disembodied  spirits.  They  gush 
with  an  emotion  which  is  never  exhausted :  they  feed 
on  hopes  and  longings,  and  are  never  happy  except  when 
they  are  inexpressibly  sad.  Yet,  fools  as  they  are,  we 
cannot  help  loving  them.  If  they  could  visit  us,  for 
only  half  an  hour,  on  a  moonlight  night  of  summer, 
when  the  woodbines  are  in  blossom,  we  should  be 
delighted  with  their  company ;  but  Heaven  forbid  that 
they  should  come  to  us  in  the  day-time,  and  especially 
in  the  market-place ! 

I  speak  of  Eichter's  extravagant  sentiment,  not  only 
because  it  is  one  of  his  prominent  characteristics,  but 
also  because  it  immediately  presents  itself  to  those  who 
open  almost  any  one  of  his  romances  for  the  first  time. 
"  SiebenMs "  is  the  least  objectionable  in  this  respect. 
The  characters  of  the  poor,  dreaming,  unpractical  poet 
of  a  lawyer  and  of  his  exasperatingly  matter-of-fact  wife, 
who,  in  the  midst  of  his   eloquent  harangue  on  Eter- 


BICHTER.  407 

nity,  interrupts  him  by  saying  :  ,  "  Don't  forget  to  leave 
off  your  left  stocking  to-morrow  morning :  tliere  is  a 
hole  in  it !  " — are  the  author  himself  and  his  good  old 
mother.  Memory,  in  this  work,  acts  as  a  good  genius, 
constantly  calling  back  his  fancy  from  its  wanderings  ; 
but  in  "  Titan "  and  "  Hesperus  "  there  is  no  such  re- 
straint. The  characters  in  these  works  float  over  the 
earth,  and  only  now  and  then  touch  it  with  the  tips  of 
their  toes.  After  waving  their  arms  towards  heaven, 
and  gazing  through  tears  on  the  Milky  Way,  for  many 
pages,  they  sometimes  come  down  a  little,  and  we  hope 
that  they  will  soberly  walk  beside  us  for  a  few  paces ; 
but  no!  the  contact  of  the  stable  reality  sends  them 
off  with  a  ricochet^  and  the  forms  that  seemed  human 
become  indistinct  masses  of  electric  light  and  angels' 
feathers  in  the  distance.  Contrasted  with  Goethe  and 
Schiller,  or  indeed  with  any  of  his  contemporaries,  we 
at  once  perceive  Richter's  prominent  fault :  he  has  not 
the  slightest  sense  of  form  in  literature.  That  patient 
thought,  by  which  a  conception  is  slowly  wrought  into 
consistent  and  proportioned  being,  was  utterly  unknown 
to  him.  Instead  of  complete  structures,  where  the  idea 
sits  enthroned  like  a  god  in  his  temple,  he  gives  us 
piles  of  materials,  fragments  of  columns  and  altars, 
stones  carved  with  fair  faces  of  women  and  cherubs, 
with  grinning  masks,  or  with  wild  tangles  of  arabesque 
designs.  In  fact,  he  strongly  suggests  the  Gothic  orna- 
mentation of  the  Middle  Ages,  with  its  mixture  of  roses 


408  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

and  thistles,  its  leaves  running  into  heads,  its  bodies 
tapering  into  quaint  mathematical  designs,  and  its  sin- 
gular blending  of  meaning  and  willful  sport.  "We  see  the 
same  tendency,  to  indulge  in  the  purely  fantastic,  in 
Albert  Diirer  and  other  early  German  painters.  It  is 
an  element  compounded  of  genius,  egotism,  vanity  and 
fancy ;  for  the  author  insists  on  giving  us  the  play  and 
not  the  labor  of  his  mind, — the  detached  suggestions 
and  sketches,  instead  of  the  perfect  picture.  If  this 
were  Eichter's  only  characteristic,  he  would  be  an  exact 
embodiment  of  the  undeveloped  German  mind.  Intel- 
lect, in  a  crude,  formless  state  of  nature,  is  always  will- 
ful and  arrogant.  Hence,  the  worship  of  form,  as  an 
ideal  to  be  attained,  purifies  the  author's  conception 
from  his  merely  personal  whims  and  moods,  and  thrusts 
his  egotism  and  vanity  into  the  background,  while  forcing 
his  fancy  to  serve  as  the  law  of  beauty  dictates.  Eichter 
might  have  learned  something  of  this,  to  his  endless  ad- 
vantage, had  he  allied  himself  with  Goethe  and  Schiller, 
and  borne  with  their  honest  criticism,  instead  of  giving 
himself  up  wholly  to  the  luxury  of  being  praised,  em- 
braced and  wept  over.  In  their  correspondence  the 
two  poets  called  him  a  tragelaph,  or  Indian  antelope, 
but  there  was  no  offence  in  applying  this  term  to  the 
gambols  of  such  a  free  and  nimble  intellect. 

Eichter's  social  success  had  also  its  share  in  mis- 
leading him.  His  independence  and  defiance  of  per- 
secution, during  these  long  years  of  bitter  poverty,  had 


RIGHTER.  409 

given  liim  an  air  of  pride  and  dignity ;  lie  had  a 
strong  and  finely  -  formed  body  and  a  superb  head, 
with  a  brow  like  Jupiter's,  and  the  frank  eyes  and 
mouth  of  a  boy;  and  thus,  at  the  age  of  thirty-three, 
he  burst  upon  the  world,  which  first  knew  him  nearly 
at  the  level  of  his  highest  performance.  He  was  a 
welcome  phenomenon  at  the  courts  of  princes,  biases 
with  all  their  ordinary  associations.  Here  was  a  ver- 
itable child  of  nature,  who  yet  observed  the  laws  of 
society.  The  aristocratic  circles  were  charmed  by  his 
originality,  brilliancy  and  gentleness,  while  they  dreaded 
to  provoke  his  powers  of  humor  and  satire ;  so  he  was 
allowed  to  say  things  which  startled  the  courtiers, 
he  was  petted  and  caressed,  and  at  length  innocently 
led  to  believe  that  the  more  freely  he  poured  forth  all 
the  ingredients  of  his  nature,  without  regard  to  their 
arrangement,  the  more  he  would  gratify  the  world.  His 
literary  development  therefore  ceased,  as  I  have  already 
said.  His  pen  became  a  permanent  escape-pipe  or  drain 
for  his  mind,  carrying  off  every  thought  as  it  welled  up. 
Moreover,  humor  being  the  distinctive  quality  of  his 
genius,  he  could  scarcely  have  risen  to  a  higher  plane 
without  losing  something  of  it  on  the  way.  Humor  is  a 
quality  which  may  be  wisely  governed,  refined  by  study 
and  exercise,  but  it  rigidly  holds  the  mind  to  its  own 
special  sphere  of  thought  and  invention.  It  may  slyly 
peep  into  the  cloisters  of  earnest  thought,  but  it  keeps 
far  away  from  the  altars  of  aspiration. 
18 


410  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

Richter  is  frequently  called  a  poet  in  prose,  but  tlie 
title  is  liardlj  correct.  I  will  admit  that  he  possessed 
a  thoroughly  poetic  appreciation  of  nature,  and  that  a 
few  of  his  scattered  concejDtions  are  adapted  to  poetic 
treatment,  but  I  have  rarely  found  an  author  with  so 
little  of  the  poetic  faculty.  His  idea  of  j)rose,  for  the 
most  part,  seems  to  consist  in  tearing  up  sentences,  and 
then  putting  the  fragments  together  at  random.  Pas- 
sages of  great  tenderness  and  eloquence  are  frequent, 
but  they  are  seldom  rhythmical.  He  sometimes  refers 
to  jDoets,  but  never  quotes  a  line  fi'om  them,  exce^^t  from 
the  classic  authors.  A  sweet  pervading  sentiment  is 
often  mistaken  for  poetry,  but  it  is  the  difference  be- 
tween a  ton  of  marble-dust  and  a  statue. 

I  have  indicated  Eichter's  chief  deficiencies,  and  I 
now  turn  to  his  equally  evident  merits.  His  humor  can 
hardly  be  illustrated  by  detached  passages  from  his 
works,  because  it  is  so  evenly  woven  into  their  entire 
textures.  It  is  full  of  grotesque  surprises,  always  whim- 
sical, often  absurd,  but  it  is  never  coarse  or  cruel.  I  have 
twice  or  thrice  found  men — not  authors — who  showed  a 
very  similar  quality  in  conversation,  where  it  is  always 
delightful.  In  Eichter's  case,  the  irresistible  tendency 
to  use  all  the  knowledge  crammed  into  his  written 
cyclopaedia,  is  a  hindrance  to  its  lightest  and  freest 
exercise.  One  is  sometimes  reminded  of  a  peasant- 
character,  in  a  story  by  Auerbach,  who  always  danced 
with   three    or   four   hea^y   iron   wedges   in  his   coat- 


BICETEB.  411 

pockets,  to  keep  the  other  dancers  from  crowding  him. 
Often,  however,  his  anatomical,  chemical  or  theological 
figures  of  speech  are  as  clear  and  keen  as  flashes  of 
lightning.  Then  through  the  hnmor  we  see  the  fea- 
tures of  some  profound  truth,  and  say  to  the  author, 
"  Be  as  grotesque  as  you  please,  so  you  give  us  more  of 
this!" 

A  careful  study  of  Richter  reveals  the  element  wherein 
he  most  reflects  the  feeling  of  his  time,  and  which  ac- 
counts for  his  great  popularity.  He  represents  the  strug- 
gle between  a  real  state  of  things,  which  was  nearly  in- 
tolerable to  a  large  class  of  Germans,  and  the  dream  of 
something  better,  sweeter  and  more  harmonious  in  their 
lives.  The  more  they  felt  the  one,  the  more  intense 
became  the  other.  Socially  and  politically  the  country 
was  already  disorganized,  while  the  living  aspirations  of 
the  people  were  forced  to  accommodate  themselves  to 
the  old,  dead  forms.  There  was,  and  could  be,  no  im- 
provement until  after  a  long  season  of  bitter  experience. 
Subjection  to  France,  war,  the  mockery  of  the  Holy 
Alliance,  and  revolution — fifty  years  of  struggle — have 
brought  about  the  transition  ;  and  we  can  now  hardly 
realize  to  ourselves  the  misery  of  the  previous  situa- 
tion. "We  find  some  expression  of  it  in  Schiller's  poems, 
but  it  was  embodied  in  Richter.  He  knew  the  life  of  the 
people  as  no  other  German  author :  its  realities  were  so 
branded  into  his  nature  that  the  ideal  life,  of  which  he 
and  his  readers  dreamed,  could  not  escape  from  them. 


412  GERMAN  LITEBATURE. 

There  is  thus  in  his  works  that  continual  and  almost 
painful  vibration  between  two  extremes,  which  is  an 
echo  of  the  general  restlessness.  Gervinus  says,  in  refer- 
ence to  this  characteristic  :  "  you  cannot  walk  with  the 
classic  cothurnus  on  one  foot,  and  the  other  foot  bare, 
without  limping."  It  is  true  that  both  extremes  are 
generally  represented  in  the  same  character ;  but  in  the 
"  Flegeljahre,''  they  are  divided  ;  the  hero  Walt  being  the 
poetic  and  ideal,  and  his  twin-brother  Yult  the  practical 
nature.  This  is  one  of  the  least  confusing  of  Richter's 
works,  but  it  was  never  completed.  He  is  skillful  in 
presenting  difficulties ;  but  when  it  comes  to  a  solution, 
he  seems  pow^erless.  In  "  SiehenMs  "  also  the  two  char- 
acters are  divided,  the  wife,  Lenette,  being  the  j)racti- 
cal  side  of  life ;  and  most  readers  will  therefore  find 
both  these  works  more  satisfactory  than  "  Hesperus " 
or  "  Titan,'  which  are  more  ambitious  in  design.  In 
them  the  general  plot  is  quite  hidden  by  the  aberra- 
tions of  the  characters,  and  it  would  be  very  difficult 
to  describe  that  of  either  in  an  intelligible  way.  The 
"  Invisible  Lodge  "  is  simpler,  and  an  outline  of  it  can 
be  given  in  a  few  words.  A  boy  is  taken,  in  infancy,  and 
placed  in  comfortable  subterranean  chambers,  where  the 
few  persons  who  attend  to  his  needs  and  educate  him 
impress  upon  his  mind  that  the  dark,  narrow  world 
which  he  knows  is  the  real  world.  They  describe  to 
him  sunshine,  trees,  flowers  and  all  the  varied  appear- 
ances of  nature   as   belonging  to    heaven, — a  heaven 


RIGHTER.  413 

to  be  won  by  obedience,  virtue  and  faith.  His  subter- 
ranean life  is  meant  to  symbolize  ours  :  bis  transfer  to 
the  surface  of  the  earth  that  of  our  souls  to  a  higher 
and  brighter  sphere  of  existence.  But  the  symbolism  is 
only  material,  not  moral  and  spiritual :  the  boy  ex- 
changes lamp-light  for  sunlight,  color,  the  sounds  of 
breezes,  birds  and  streams  and  the  bliss  of  the  free  air. 
On  the  other  hand,  he  rises  from  the  innocence  and 
ignorance  of  his  subterranean  life  to  become  acquainted 
with  violence,  selfishness  and  crime.  Eichter  saw  his 
mistake,  afterwards,  and  called  the  work  "a  born  ruin." 

As  a  specimen  of  his  simpler  descriptive  style,  I  wiU 
quote  a  passage,  translated  by  Carlyle,  from  his  auto- 
biography, in  which  he  gives  us  a  picture  of  his  father's 
household : 

-  To  represent  the  Jodiz  life  of  our  Hans  Paul,-for  by  tMs  name 
we  shall  for  a  time  distinguish  him,  yet  ever  changing  it  with  others, 
-our  best  course,  I  believe,  will  be  to  conduct  him  through  a  whole 
Idyl-year  ;  dividing  the  normal  year  into  four  seasons,  as  so  many 
quarterly  Idvls  ;  four  Idyls  exhaust  his  happiness. 

-  For  the  rest,  let  no  one  marvel  at  finding  an  Idyl-kingdom  and  pas- 
toral-world in  a  little  hamlet  and  parsonage.  In  the  smallest  bed  you 
can  raise  a  tulip-tree,  which  shall  extend  its  flowery  boughs  over  all 
the  garden  ;  and  the  life-breath  of  joy  can  be  inhaled  as  well  through 
a  window  as  in  the  open  wood  and  sky.  Nay,  is  not  Man's  Spirit  (with 
all  its  infinite  celestial-spaces)  walled-in  ^vithin  a  six-feet  Body  mth 
integuments,  and  Malpighian  mucuses  and  capillary  tubes  ;  and  has 
onlv  five  strait  world-windows,  of  Senses,  to  open  for  the  boundless, 
round-eyed,  round-sunned  All  ;-and  yet  it  discerns  and  reproduces 

an  All !  i    tj  i     x 

"Scarcelvdo  I  know  with  which  of  the  four  quarterly  Idyls  to 
begin  ;  for  each  is  a  little  heavenly  forecourt  to  the  next :  however, 


414  GERMAN  LITERATUBE, 

the  climax  of  joys,  if  we  start  with  Winter  and  Jamiarr,  will  perhaps 
be  most  apparent.  In  the  cold,  our  Father  had  commonly,  like  an 
Alpine  herdsman,  come  down  from  the  upper  altitude  of  his  study  ; 
and,  to  the  joy  of  the  children,  was  dwelling  on  the  plain  of  the  gen- 
eral family-room.  In  the  morning,  he  sat  by  a  window,  committing 
his  Sunday's  sermon  to  memory  ;  and  the  three  sons,  Fritz  (who  I 
myself  am),  and  Adam,  and  Gottlieb  carried,  by  turns,  tbe  full  coffee- 
cup  to  him,  and  still  moregladly  carried  back  the  empty  one,  because 
the  carrier  was  then  entitled  to  pick  the  unmelted  remains  of  the 
sugar-candy  (taken  against  cough)  from  the  bottom  thereof.  Out  of 
doors,  truly,  the  sky  covered  all  things  with  silence  ;  the  brook  with 
ice,  the  village  with  snow :  but  in  our  rooms  there  was  life  ;  under  the 
stove  a  pigeon-establishment;  on  the  windows  finch-cages ;  on  the  floor, 
the  invincible  bull  brach,  our  Bonne,  the  night-guardian  of  the  court- 
yard ;  and  a  poodle,  and  the  pretty  Scharmantel  (Poll),  a  present  from 
the  Lady  von  Plotho  ; — and  close  by,  the  kitchen,  with  two  maids ; 
and  farther  off,  against  the  other  end  of  the  house,  our  stable,  with 
all  sorts  of  bovine,  swinish  and  feathered  cattle,  and  their  noises  :  the 
threshers  with  their  flails,  also  at  work  within  the  court-yard,  I  might 
reckon  as  another  item.  In  this  way,  with  nothing  but  society  on  all 
hands,  the  whole  male  portion  of  the  household  easily  spent  their 
forenoon  in  tasks  of  memory,  not  far  from  the  female  portion,  as 
busily  employed  in  cooking. 

"Holidays  occur  in  every  occupation  ;  thus  I  too  had  my  airing 
holidays, — analogous  to  watering  holidays, — so  that  I  could  travel  out 
in  t^e  snow  of  the  court-yard,  and  to  the  barn  with  its  threshing. 
Nay,  was  there  a  delicate  embassy  to  be  transacted  in  the  village, — for 
example,  to  the  schoolmaster,  to  the  tailor, — I  was  sure  to  be  de- 
spatched thither  in  the  middle  of  my  lessons ;  and  thus  I  still  got 
forth  into  the  open  air  and  the  cold,  and  measured  myself  with  the 
new  snow.  At  noon,  before  our  own  dinner,  we  children  might  also, 
in  the  kitchen,  have  the  hungry  satisfaction  to  see  the  threshers 
fall-to  and  consume  their  victuals. 

"  The  afternoon,  again,  was  still  more  important,  and  richer  in 
joys.  Winter  shortened  and  sweetened  our  lessons.  In  the  long 
dusk,  our  Father  walked  to  and  fro  ;  and  the  children,  according  to 
ability,  trotted  under  his  night-gown,  holding  by  his  hands.  At 
sound  of  the  vesper-bell,  we  placed  ourselves  in  a  circle,  and  in  concert 
devotionally  chanted  the  hymn,  Die  jinstre  Nacht  bricht  stark  herein 
(The  gloomy  night  is  gathering  round).     Only  in  villages,   not  in 


RICETER.  415 

towns,  where  probably  tbere  is  more  night  than  day  labor,  have  the 
evening  chimes  a  meaning  and  beauty,  and  are  the  swan-song  of  the 
day  •  the  evening-bell  is  as  it  were  the  muffle  of  the  over-loud  heart, 
and  like  a  ranee  des  vaches  of  the  plains,  calls  men  from  their  runmng 
and  toiling,  into  the  land  of  silence  and  dreams.  After  a  pleasant 
watching  about  the  kitchen-door  for  the  moonrise  of  candle-light,  we 
saw  our  wide  room  at  once  illuminated  and  barricaded  ;  to  wit  the 
window-shutters  were  closed  and  bolted  ;  aoid  behmd  these  window 
bastions  and  breastworks  the  child  felt  himself  snugly  nestled  and 
well  secured  against  Knecht  Ruprecht,  who  on  the  outside  could  not 
get  in,  but  only  in  vain  keep  growling  and  hummmg." 

Those  passages  in  Eichter's  works  wMch  are  con- 
sidered purely  sublime  by  his  admirers -wherein  he  is 
most  earnest  and  profound-impress  us  like  a  mind 
wandering  through  Chaos,  and  only  not  bewildered  be- 
cause of  intense  faith  in  God  and  Man.     Carlyle,  in  an 
article  written  soon  after  Eichter's  death,  recognized 
his  highest  qualities  in  this  eloquent  passage:     "His 
faculties  are  all  of  gigantic  mould ;  cumbrous,  awkward 
in  their  movements;  large  and   splendid  rather  than 
harmonious  or  beautiful,  yet  joined  in  living  union,  and 
of  force    and   compass   altogether   extraordinary.     He 
has  an  intellect  vehement,  rugged,  irresistible  ;  crushing 
in  pieces  the  hardest  problems,  piercing  into  the  most 
hidden  combinations  of  things  and  grasping  the  most 
distant:  an  imagination  vague,  sombre,  splendid  or  ap- 
palling,—brooding  over  the  abysses  of  Being,  wander- 
ing through  Infinitude,  and  summoning  before  us,  in  its 
dim  religious  light,  shapes  of  brilliancy,  solemnity  or 
terror ;  a  fancy  of  exuberance  literally  unexampled,  for 
it  pours  forth  its  treasures  with  a  lavishness   which 


416  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

knows  no  limits,  hanging,  like  tlie  sun,  a  jewel  on  every 
grass-blade,  and  sowing  the  Earth  at  large  with  orient 
pearl." 

This  is  the  testimony  of  an  author  who  resembles 
Eichter  in  the  character  of  his  humor  and  the  arrogant 
individuality  of  his  style.  In  regard  to  the  latter.  Car- 
lyle  quotes  Lessing's  phrase  :  "  Every  man  has  his  own 
style,  like  his  own  nose,"  and  adds:  "True,  there  are 
noses  of  wonderful  dimensions,  but  no  nose  can  justly 
be  amputated  by  the  public."  I  think,  however,  that 
we  have  a  right  to  object  when  the  author  insists  on 
twisting  and  pinching  his  nose  out  of  shape,  or  changing 
its  natural  hue  into  a  shining  redness,  through  the  reck- 
less intemperance  of  his  fancy. 

To  illustrate  Eichter  by  quotations  is  like  taking 
single  trees  out  of  a  jungle  where  a  thousand  different 
kinds  are  matted  together.  There  are  remarkably  few 
short  passages  which  are  com23lete  when  torn  from  the 
context.  What  he  says  of,  or  rather  to,  Music,  has  often 
been  quoted — "  Away  !  thou  speakest  of  that  which  all 
my  life  I  have  passionately  sought,  which  I  never  find, 
and  never  shall  find ! "  Another  fine  expression  is : 
"Unhappy  is  the  man  for  whom  his  own  mother  has 
not  made  all  other  mothers  venerable ! "  In  matters 
of  faith  he  was  entirely  independent,  doubting  or  deny- 
ing as  his  nature  prompted ;  yet  he  says :  "  When  in 
your  last  hour  all  faculty  in  the  broken  spirit  shall  fade 


RICHTER.  417 

away  and  die  into  inanity — imagination,  thouglit,  effort, 
enjoyment — then  at  the  last  will  the  night-flower  of 
Belief  alone  continue  blooming,  and  refresh  with  its 
perfume  in  the  closing  darkness."  Here  is  a  brief  pas- 
sage which  embodies  an  important  truth  :  "  Truthfulness 
is  not  so  much  a  branch  as  a  blossom  of  moral,  manly 
strength.  The  weak,  whether  they  will  or  not,  must 
lie.  As  respects  children,  for  the  first  ^nq  years  they 
litter  neither  truth  nor  falsehood — they  only  speak. 
Their  talk  is  thinking  aloud ;  and  as  one-half  of  their 
thought  is  often  an  affirmative,  and  the  other  half  a 
negative,  and,  unlike  us,  they  express  both,  they  often 
seem  to  lie  while  they  are  only  talking  with  them- 
selves." 

I  might  multiply  short  quotations  like  these,  but 
they  would  suggest  a  false  rather  than  a  true  im- 
pression of  the  author.  His  glimpses  of  graver  thought 
are  generally  coherent,  because  the  exercise  of  his 
humor  is  suspended.  It  is  also  very  difficult  to  repro- 
duce the  peculiar  quality  of  his  prose  in  a  translation. 
Its  singular,  broken  cadences,  its  promise  of  melodies 
which  are  always  shattered  by  discords,  require  that 
the  form  should  be  almost  as  carefully  retained  as  in 
translating  poetry.  The  passages  given  by  Carlyle  are 
much  the  best  translations,  on  account  of  the  intellec- 
tual resemblances  between  him  and  Richter. 

You  will  easily  understand  that  a  large  class  of  read- 
ers are  naturally  repelled  by  Richter.     In  German  criti- 
18* 


418  GERMAN  LITERATURE. 

cism  jou  will  find  the  most  diyergent  estimates  of  his 
genius ;  but  no  judgment  of  a  purely  literary  character 
can  be  just.  His  deep  and  tender  humanity  must  be 
recognized,  as  we  recognize  it  in  Burns  and  Hood.  In 
literary  art,  he  is  only  a  disorganizing  element,  while 
his  moral  power  and  influence  have  been  wholly  pure 
and  beneficent.  Even  his  yanity  never  offends  us,  for 
it  is  as  candid  and  transparent  as  that  of  Hans  Chris- 
tian Andersen.  That  so  much  strength  and  weakness, 
so  much  delicacy  and  coarseness,  so  much  knowledge 
and  ignorance,  so  much  melting  sentiment  and  gro- 
tesque humor,  should  not  only  be  co-existent,  but 
mixed  through  and  through  one  another,  in  the  same 
brain,  makes  him  a  permanent  phenomenon.  There  is 
nothing  like  him  in  the  literature  of  any  country.  If 
we  call  him  great,  we  shall  find  a  thousand  reasons  for 
taking  back  the  epithet ;  yet  we  cannot  possibly  press 
him  back  into  any  middle  place.  Nothing  remains  for 
us  but  to  accept  the  term  invented  by  his  followers, 
and  call  him  ''  Der  Mnzige  " — "  The  Unique." 


INDEX. 


Abraham  a  Santa  Clara,  197. 
Andrsea,  160. 

B. 

Beowulf,  10. 

Birken,  Siegmund  von,  193. 

Biterolf,  56. 

Brandt,  Sebastian,  147. 

Burkbardt  von  Hobenfels,  48,  53. 


Canitz,  Baron,  197. 
Cbancellor,  The,  49. 
Charlemagne,  7,  8,  9,  15. 
Codex  Argenteus,  The,  4. 
Conrad,  The  Priest,  63,  64. 
Conrad  von  Wurzburg,  48,  49,  50. 


Dach,  Simon,  185-188. 
Diethmar  von  Aist,  30,  36. 

E. 

Egmont,  312,  313,  314,  315, 

330. 
Eilhart  von  Oberg,  75. 
Erek,  62,  68,  69-73,  92. 


Fabricius,  Dr.,  169. 
Faust,  307,  334-385,  338-339,  341- 
342,  343,  362,  369,  38&-387. 


Faust,  First   Part,  315,  337-369, 

Faust,  Second  Part,  296,  324,  337, 
339,  342,  343,  350,  370-386. 

Faustus,  The  Legend  of  Dr.,  339- 
341 

Fischart,  169,  171-174,  178,  180, 
242,  391. 

Flemming,  Paul,  I8I-I80. 

Frauenlob,  48,  54,  55,  57, 143. 

Friedrich  von  Hansen,  37. 

Futerer,  Ulric,  137. 

a. 

Gailer  von  Kaysersberg,  147. 

Gellert,  198,  203,  231. 

Gerhardt.  Paul,  180. 

Gleim,  203. 

Goethe,  195,  202,  203,  214,  218, 
230,  281,  232,  238,  242,  248,  249, 
252,  253,  '.254,  255,  258,  259,  263, 
264,  266,  268,  275,  276,  277,  281, 
284-287,  289,  292,  294,  295,299, 
300,  302,  304-336,  390,  400,  401, 
407,  408. 

Gotter  Griechenlands,  Die  (The 
Gods  of  Greece),  281-284. 

Gotz  von  Berlichingen,  307,  308- 
309,  810.  329. 

Gospel  Harmony,  The  Old  Saxon, 
15. 

Gottfried  von  Strasburg,    63,  68, 

74,  75,  78,  82,  85,  86,  87,  97,  99. 

Gottsched,  205,  215,  231,  235,  243, 

244. 
Gregorius  vom  Stein,  68,  73. 

1  Grimmelhausen,  197. 

419 


420 


INDEX. 


Grjpliius,  Andreas,  185,  189-190, 

191,  192,  197. 
Grypliius,  Christian,  192. 
Gudrun,  03,  63,  130-134,  136. 


Hadlaub,  Master  Johannes,  48,  52. 

Hagedorn,  198. 

Haller,  198. 

Hans  Sachs,  145,  160-163. 

Hartmann  von  Ane,  37,  63,  68,  74, 

75,  78,  87,  92. 
Heinrich,  Der  Arme,  68,  69,  73. 
Heinrich  von  Meissen  (see  Frau- 

enlob). 
Heinrich  von  Morungen,  37. 
Heinrich  von  Ofterdingen,  56,  57. 
Heinrich  von  Veldeck,  37,  62,  64. 
Heliand,  Der,  15-20,  28. 
Hellena.  Die,  343,  375-378. 
Herder,    203,    230,    249,    256-365, 

276,  304,  305,  308,  315,  336,  390, 

400,  401. 
Hermann  und  Dorothea,  320-332, 

330. 
Hildebrandslied,   Das,    10-15,   23, 

28,  62,  107,  131. 
Hucbald,  22. 
Hugo  von  Montfort,  137. 
Hutten,  Ulric  von,  149,  159. 
Hymns  of  the  tinie  of  the  Refor- 
mation, 159,  178. 


Iphigenie  auf  Tauris,  313, 313,  314, 
315,  330. 

Iwein,  63,  68,  74. 

K. 

Kaspar  von  der  Roen,  11,  137. 

Kepler,  171. 

Klingsor,  56,  57. 

Klopstock,  203,  203,  232,  234-345, 
346,  348,  354,  356,  363,  364,  268, 
275,  304,  305,  309,  315,  336,  390. 

Kiirenberger,  The,  106. 


Lamprecht,  The  Priest,  64. 

Laocoon,  307,  314^216,  338.  , 

Leibnitz,  171. 

Leich,  A.,  33. 

Lessing,  171,  198,  303,  303,  304- 
233,  334,  237,  343,  344,  245,  246, 
248,  252,  354,  255,  360,  264,  273, 
800,  304,  305,  309,  333,  336,  341, 
390,  416. 

Lichtenberg,  391. 

Logau,  Friedrich  von,  171,  185, 
193-196. 

Lohenstein,  193,  197. 

Lord's  Prayer,  The,  in  Gothic,  5. 

Ludwigslied,  The,  33-35. 

Luther,  149-159, 165, 166, 168, 174, 
175,  180,  196,  232,  391. 

M. 

Marner,  The,  46-48,  53. 
Meistergesang,  Der,  143-146, 179. 
Messias,  Der  (The  Messiah),  334, 

335,  336,  338-242,  243,  345. 
Minnesingers,  The,  31,  34,  36,  37, 

45,  46,  48,  52,  56,  60,  64,  133. 
Minstrels,  The  War  of  the  (Der 

Sangerkrieg),  55-57. 
Murner,  Thomas,  148. 

N. 

Nathan  der  Weise  (Nathan  the 
Wise),  209,  217,  320-228. 

Nibelungen,  113. 

Nibelungenlied,  The,  7,  26,  63,  63, 
101-130,  131,  134,  136,  139. 

Nibelungennoth,  113. 

Nithart,  46. 

O. 

Oath  of  Charles  the  Bald,  The,  9. 
Oberon,  249-252,  253. 
Olearius,  183,  197. 
Opitz,    Martin,   175-179,  181,  183, 

183,  189,  190,  191,  197. 
Oswald  von  Wolkenstein,  137. 
Otfried,   The   Benedictine  Monk, 

30-33. 


INDEX. 


421 


Parzival,  63,  88-97,  98,  105. 

R. 

Reimar  the  Old,  37,  48. 
ReiDmar  von  Zweter,  48,  52,  56,  57. 
Reynard  the  Fox,  26,  139,  140. 
Richter,  Jean  Paul,  171,  202,  203, 
230,  267,  388-418. 

S. 

Schiller,  183,  185,  202,  208,  230, 
243,  249,  258,  256,  264,  266-808, 
304,  305,  809,  311,  815,  816,  818, 
320,  822,  825,  826,  386,  342,  343, 
390,  400,  401,  407,  408,  411. 

Schoolmaster,  The,  of  Esslingen, 
49. 

Silesian  school,  The  first,  175,181, 
185,  189,  190-191,  197. 

Silesian  school.  The  second,  192, 
196,  197. 

Societies,  Literary,  of  the  17th 
century,  175,  179,  181. 

Songs  of  the  People,  164-165,  185, 
189. 

Spener,  180. 

Stabreim,  12. 

Sturm  und  Drang  Periode,  Die 
(The  Storm  and  Stress  Period), 
288,  252,  269,  284,  810,  400. 

T. 

Tannhauser,  58-60. 
Tasso,  812,  313,  314,  315. 
Tauler,  147. 
Theuerdank,  The,  138. 


Titurel,  62,  97,  98-99. 

Titurel,  The,  of  Albrecht,  137. 

Tristan,  62,  68,  75-86,  87,  88,  89, 
90,  92. 

Trooper's  Song  of  the  15th  cen- 
tury, 141. 

Ulfilas,  4-6,  13,  28. 
Ulric  von  Lichtenstein,  52-54. 
Ulric  von  Winterstetten,  48,  50. 
Undaunted,  The,  49. 

V. 
Virtuous  Scribe,  The,  56. 

W. 

Wallenstein.   280.  286,  287,   290- 

292,  298,  296,  829. 
Walter  von  der  Vogelweide,  31, 

33,  37-46,  49,  52,  56,  85, 135, 188. 
Weckrlin,  160. 
Wernher,  The  monk,  48. 
Werther,  Die  Leiden  des  jungen 

(The  Sorrows  of  Werther),  310. 
Wieland,  202,  203,  282,  245-256, 

259,  264,  276,  304,  305,  310,  315, 

386,  890. 
Wilhelm    Meister,    312,    316-318, 

324. 
Wilhelm  Tell,  295-298. 
Willehalm,  97. 
Wolfram  von  Eschenbach,  33,  56, 

57,  63,  68,  74,  75,  87-89,  93,  97, 

99,  100,  105,  136,  138,  174. 


Zinkgref,  197. 


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